


Little Lions

by lydjah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 200k of Marauders, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 111,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16548821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydjah/pseuds/lydjah
Summary: To some, the slow burn of a mystery - like the slow burn of an unexpected love, or an unsigned letter or political tensions - is a temptation that’s simply too irresistible to deny.Lily feels the burn of a seventh year full of mysteries, and the need to know is too immense - she’s willing to go down in flames to know the truth.





	1. Prologue: The October Storm

_ PART ONE: BAD MOON RISING _

* * *

_‘And it was not your fault but mine,_

_And it was your heart on the line,_

_I really fucked it up this time,_

_Didn’t I, my dear?’_

_-_

_Mum_ _ford and Sons_

* * *

 

_ PROLOGUE: THE OCTOBER STORM _

_Dear diary,_

_Where to begin? I suppose the present is always a reasonable place to start with – it’s raining right now, just as it was nearly three years ago, when all this began. It’s raining so hard that_ _I can barely see out the window. It’s cold outside, I can tell, but I’m warm here in my bed, with my little lamp on. James is dead to the world lying beside me, but our baby is restless; I can feel it shifting. It’s been eight months now. It won’t be much_ _longer._

_The story I’m about to tell you is one I never really intended to put onto paper. You see, there are so many stories inextricably intertwined with this one that I never felt I had the complete right to tell it. There is so much heartache, so muc_ _h mystery, and so many secrets that it’s almost as if this story is the very darkness which has seeped into our lives, and I suppose, in some ways, it is. None of it would have happened if our lives had not been marked for change._

_I’m not going to take y_ _ou back to the very beginning of seventh year, for everything from the train trip on September 1_ _ st _ _to that stormy October night was very uneventful, unless you count James being made Head Boy. After all, that surprised me (not that I’d mention it these day_ _s)._

 _Instead, I’m taking you back to a night when thunder raged and the sky flashed white every few seconds as lightning split it; the rain was torrential, as today. Maybe it was an omen, a cliché, that such terrible weather would signal such a change in_ _our circumstances, but that was just the way it was._

 _As I said, I never intended to be the one writing this tale. I don’t think of myself as terribly eloquent – Kes, perhaps, or Remus, should be the one recording this, but I know Remus, at least, wants t_ _o block most of it from his memory. I got to thinking the other day as I waited for my regular Maternity Healer appointment that my child should know his or her mother’s story, and the story of the people she loves, even if someday I’m not around to tell i_ _t._

_And so here it is. My retelling may not be the most eloquent, and I may not know why some things turned out the way they did, and let me warn you that this is certainly not a tale with a happy ending, but it is what it is._

_Our story begins with a le_ _tter._

* * *

 

**_October, 1976_ **

_My dearest sister,_

_You cannot imagine how difficult this is. You wouldn’t think, for example, that it would be so hard to write what I’ve always suspected and now know, safe in the knowledge that this letter will never reac_ _h your eyes. But it is._

_Despite our best efforts, our family has manipulated every aspect of our lives. They took our mother from us, and they broke our father’s heart. And, in doing so, they took a piece of each of ours as well. Maybe I cannot think of_ _them as monsters, but I know their flaws well enough. And so,_ _Isidora dear, I am confused. How can we have thought one thing for so long, and yet have the truth be another thing entirely?_

_I’m sorry, love, if I’m not making any sense._

_I think maybe, dee_ _p down, you always knew the truth. It was repressed, perhaps, but it was there; you used to call out in your sleep for our mother, always in the shadows of our lives but never actually present. But you don’t remember that, and I don’t care to remind you._

_But the truth is,_ _Isidora, they never even denied it when they discovered I knew! All these years, they tol- - -_

Lily Evans frowned at the torn edge of the parchment; it was like a teasing crumb left behind to intrigue and infuriate her. She’d never before made a habit of reading other people’s private correspondence – the idea went against all of her morals – but this particular letter had enthralled her for several reasons.

The first was the manner in which she had come upon it. For years when she had had difficulty sleeping, Lily had snuck into the Hogwarts library. There was nothing like reading a good book to stop the ticking in her mind and allow her to relax. It had been so tonight – the violent rain and an excess of homework had stopped her drifting off easily.

So, as usual, she had broken into the library and wandered the shelves looking for a book. Her eye had been caught quickly by a thick, leather-bound volume with an unmarked spine. She had slid it off the shelf, marvelling at the intricate and incredibly life-like bat in full flight that was depicted on the front cover, beneath which the word ‘Drakula’ was pressed into the leather. Her recollection of how much she had loved Stoker’s book the first time she had read it had moved her to open it; in retrospect, she would think about how out-of-place the Muggle book had been in the school’s library. In any case, at the time, the apparently well-loved volume fell open virtually at the centre, revealing the folded letter.

The lettering was slanted, elegant, and somewhat familiar, as black as night on pale parchment; the first couple of lines had demanded Lily’s attention immediately. And, finally, she was well and truly intrigued by that single important name: _Isidora._

It didn’t matter which way you said it – Isidora, Iz, Izza – the only Isidora Lily knew was Isidora ‘Izza’ Moldovan, one of her best friends, whose own unusual circumstances were too similar to what was described in the letter to be coincidence. Izza was an intensely private person; she always had been. As such, even Lily knew very little about her family; they were Romanian, or her father’s side was, anyway. Her mother was Swedish. It made no difference, Izza sometimes said, because they were both dead. Her mother was long dead, and her father was, too, apparently of a broken heart. Izza’s older brother, Kes, had practically raised her. He had to have been the one who had penned the letter. Lily peered at it, tilting her head slightly to the side. When she looked at it properly, the handwriting was similar to Izza’s, which was probably why she thought it familiar.

Lily knew she should throw the letter away and forget about it, but she also knew that it would be impossible. Her mind was already racing with a dilemma – should she show it to Izza, the person to whom it was addressed, but also the one never supposed to lay eyes on it? Her own curiosity too was proving difficult to deal with. She wanted to know the terrible truth – what had Kes been about to reveal? She knew the Moldovan’s were difficult and manipulative, but what had they done? What had they kept secret? What was so explosive?

A noise like a footstep made Lily jump and nearly drop the heavy book. She clutched it to her chest and listened, her heart racing in her ears, but no noise followed. As quietly as possible, she shut the book and replaced it on the shelf where she found it, putting the letter into the pocket of her dressing gown.

“You promised me.”

Lily froze at the sound of the voice. It was low and rough, the timbre undeniably male. It sounded urgent, with an undercurrent of betrayal. Lily didn’t move; she had a feeling she shouldn’t make her presence known.

“Darling, don’t be ridiculous. You’re so dramatic sometimes, it’s cute.” A second voice joined the first, a low purr that sent a chill down Lily’s spine.

“You said she’d be safe, but where is she? How am I supposed to trust you or him when all of you twist everything in your favour?”

There was an exasperated sigh, as if this was an oft-explained, simple concept that the male had never quite grasped. “Have you not received everything I promised you? Have I given you reason to mistrust me?” The female voice dropped an octave, shifting into a more subtly seductive gear. “Your little girlfriend is fine, just as I promised. However, her remaining that way is entirely up to you and how consistently pleased I remain with you.”

“But-”

The female voice interrupted smoothly. “I’m tired of this conversation. Same time and place on Thursday. Am I well understood, darling?”

“Yes.” The male voice was resentful. Moments later, soft footsteps retreated, followed by heavier ones; after a tense minute, Lily was sure she was alone once more.

Her heart was racing, and she was reeling at the turn her mundane night had taken. She could still hear that menacing female voice in her ears; despite her fear, she longed to know what they had been talking about.

Lily’s heart continued to gallop all the way back to the Gryffindor tower. She only remembered the letter she had found when she reached her dorm. When lightning flashed, she could just make out Izza’s silhouette.

As silently as she could manage, Lily opened her bedside drawer and hid the letter within a book. She then climbed into bed and pulled her hangings shut, knowing it was useless – she felt like sleep was a million miles away.

As she lay there, she felt like every sound was amplified in the room; she could hear Mary MacDonald’s heavy, even breathing across the room, the steady lash of rain on the window, and the rustle of sheets as Izza moved restlessly in her sleep.

 _‘Stay asleep, Izza,’_ Lily pleaded silently with her best mate.

Izza sighed. “For fuck’s sake,” she murmured, half-asleep, and seconds later, Lily heard her pull her hangings back and cross the room to the bathroom. Lily felt a stab of sympathy for her friend; she hated it when Izza had nightmares.

“Lily.”

Lily jumped at the whisper of her name. She sat up just as Marlene McKinnon poked her head through the hangings. Lily beckoned her and she climbed into the bed, her goldish-brown hair tickling Lily’s cheek.

“She’ll have a bad day tomorrow, won’t she?” Marlene said quietly. Lily didn’t even have to ask who. “She’s been up and down about three times now.”

“Has she?” Lily asked without thinking.

Marlene sat up, frowning at Lily. “Where have you been?” She smiled mischievously. “I didn’t think even the Head Girl was allowed to wander the corridors aimlessly at night.”

“I wasn’t wandering aimlessly,” Lily whispered, feeling herself flush. “I was thinking. I have a lot on my mind.” That much, at least, was true.

In the bathroom, Izza was crying.

 

* * *

 

“You look like hell,” Sirius Black said to Izza over his glass of Firewhiskey. She glared at him with those eldritch violet-blue eyes of hers - eyes that currently had dark, bruise-like shadows beneath them. 

“Sirius,” Remus said warningly, glancing at Izza. “You know better.”

Izza was staring at her own Firewhiskey in a contemplative sort of way. “It’s all right,” she sighed. “He’s just telling the truth.”

It was Friday night, and the seventh years were doing what they did best – drinking to forget how much homework they had to tackle over the weekend. Most of the younger students had evacuated the common room, and those that remained, Lily thought, had stupidly forgotten how wild her classmates got when they had a few drinks in them. Like Peter, for example: Peter was a lightweight at the best of times, and half a bottle of Ogden’s best had him dancing around the room by himself, completely off and away in a world of his own.

Lily liked a drink or two herself, but she, and often Remus, was usually eclipsed by the others. She preferred to allow her motherly instincts to kick in and take care of the others – particularly Izza, who had always had a talent for the reckless – instead of writing herself off. Thus far, it had been a typical night; Peter was already on his way to a killer hangover, Remus was starting to loosen, and Izza and Sirius were going drink for drink, as they would until Izza tried to do something stupid and dangerous, at which point she and Sirius would disappear to somewhere quiet and alcohol-free until she was over it. Lily had once found them behind a statue, playing rock-paper-scissors. The trick was to distract her.

Mary was a bit of a lightweight, also, and would generally spend the night being even more flirtatious than usual. Marlene would just dance until she dropped from exhaustion.

The conundrum was James Potter. Everyone else was predictable; Lily knew exactly the pattern that their nights would take. Usually, James could be counted on to be getting up to no good with Sirius and Izza. But, tonight, he was sitting on the windowsill, staring outside. Lily had lost count of how many drinks he’d had, but he wasn’t being somewhat ridiculous the way he usually was. He wasn’t (loudly) coming up with insane plots to win her heart. Every now and then, he would glance at Izza and Sirius, as if checking on them the way Lily did, but he remained where he was, a picture of seriousness.

Lily didn’t like it one bit. She’d reached seventh year thinking that that was it, that she’d known these people for six years, that there wasn’t any way they could possibly surprise her. And yet Izza was still a mystery (Lily didn’t like to admit she’d never quite figured her best friend out as well as she claimed to), James had done a personality 360, and Mary was whispering in Remus’ ear (this last was more trivial than anything; Mary would grow bored in a few days and move on to someone new).

She didn’t like mystery; she never had, except in literature. Her parents were pragmatic, practical people. She liked fact, and she liked what she could see and prove. And so, she decided, as she watched James run a hand through his hair and sigh, she was going to get to the bottom of all the mystery in her life. James, the letter, and that conversation; she was going to unravel it all.


	2. Chapter One: Pot, meet Kettle

_ CHAPTER ONE: POT, MEET KETTLE _

* * *

 

“Izza?” 

Izza opened her tired, sleep-heavy eyes and looked up at Sirius. They were on his bed, their legs tangled familiarly. Izza could feel the weight of the empty bottle of Firewhiskey against her hip, and she was decidedly warm and comfortable. They’d been talking earlier - their usual friendly, somewhat drunken banter - but Izza had reached the stage of the night where she was starting to feel exhausted, and was finding it hard to resist the sweet embrace of sleep. It was particularly difficult, with Sirius‘ warmth right next to her; the boy was like an oven, and she was so comfortable soaking up his heat.

“Mm?” she answered vaguely, pressing her face closer to his warm chest.

“Let’s go flying.”

Izza’s eyes flew open abruptly. Sirius was stretched out on his side on the bed, grinning at her. She frowned back. She hadn’t realised he was _that_ intoxicated, but there was the evidence as she looked; his pupils were blown, just two silver rings of iris visible around each, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Izza asked, smiling slightly. Sirius sat up, his gorgeous grin widening, loosened onto his lips with thanks to the liquor consumed earlier that night. 

“Absolutely. Come on, Iz, _please.”_  

Izza tilted her head to the side, considering him as he widened his lovely grey eyes innocently. His lashes were like ink strokes - outrageously long, for a man’s - and his cajoling stare, combined with the smile - Izza hadn’t seen Sirius smile so genuinely in quite a while; he’d come back from the summer somehow _different_ \- told her that he was drunker than she had seen him in a long time. She knew she shouldn’t let him anywhere near a broom, but she also knew that fact and logic and reasoning wouldn’t stop him when he was like this. When he was like this, in this mood, he was single-minded to the point of recklessness. She would have to distract him, like he had done for her many a time. 

“How about we go for a walk first? Sober you up a bit? Otherwise you might crash into the grandstand. Or the Whomping Willow,” she added thoughtfully. “Imagine how _that_ would mess up your pretty face.” Izza pinched his cheek playfully. 

Sirius sighed. “Fine. But I _know_ you’re just trying to distract me.” 

As they stood and collected themselves, Izza eyed her friend, struck by a sudden, vivid memory of her and Sirius prancing through the fringe of the Forbidden Forest one Friday night the previous year. They’d had to hide under the roots of a tree when Hagrid, the gameskeeper, had gone trudging past. They’d had to bribe his dog with biscuits Izza had silently conjured, to keep from being caught. “As long as it’s working, love,” Izza said, going around to his side of the bed and tugging his hand.

“It always does when you’re the distracting factor,” Sirius laughed ruefully, dragging Izza to his side and draping his arm around her shoulder. “You know you’re the only one I can’t resist.”

Downstairs, the Gryffindors’ little gathering was still going. Mary was teaching Marlene some strange Muggle game, which she called ‘Kings Cup’ and which seemed to have very little point to it at all, in Sirius’ opinion, while Peter and Remus all but rolled on the floor as they laughed at the pair. James was still sitting by the window, watching his friends pensively, but Lily Evans had disappeared.

“Hey Prongs,” Sirius called, when he and Izza reached the portrait. James looked up questioningly. “Want to come for a walk?”

James huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “No, thanks. Make sure he behaves, Izza.”

“I will, as long as he keeps his hands to himself,” Izza joked, winking at James. 

“I cannot promise that,” Sirius said, sweeping his arm before him like he was brushing aside Izza’s gentle threat. “I’m _all_ man, you know that.” James and Izza simultaneously snorted, exchanging looks of mild disbelief.

In retrospect, Izza was surprised they weren’t caught on the way out of the castle; after all the Firewhiskey they’d gone through earlier that night, neither gave much thought to being stealthy. Sirius assured Izza he was friendly with all the suits of armour, and they would throw Filch off their trail if he came after them. Still, Izza was relieved when they made it outside and headed in the direction of the lake. It was raining, a soft and sad drizzle, but Izza’s skin was hot from the liquor and the brisk walk through the castle.

“Look at that,” Sirius snickered, pointing at a particularly… _amorous_ couple, who had also snuck out into the grounds and were sitting near the lake, under the protection of a charm that was deflecting rain away from them, and who were enthusiastically making out.   

“Please tell me they’re only kissing,” Izza said, dissolving into laughter. In the dark, the pair was just a blur of groping limbs.

“No idea,” Sirius gasped, holding on to Izza’s arm as he laughed. As she looked at him, Izza saw a wicked gleam come to his eyes, as if an idea had hit him. “Hey, watch this,” he exclaimed.

Izza watched in confusion as Sirius let go of her arm and ran forward. After he’d taken five or six steps he seemed to fall forward, his shoulders hunching and his limbs shifting. Izza let out a cry of shock as, before her eyes, her friend shifted and changed in front of her eyes into an enormous, jet-black, bear-sized dog. She took half a step towards the dog - _Sirius?!_ \- but her limbs didn’t seem to want to work.

The dog bounded towards the couple and Izza almost wanted to laugh as he jumped on them playfully, but she found the noise wouldn’t come. The pair were screaming, and scrambling to their feet, wildly trying to figure out if they were being attacked or not. Izza was reeling - okay, so she’d had a couple of Firewhiskeys earlier, but she wasn’t _that_ intoxicated - not enough to be _hallucinating_. She certainly wasn’t imagining things - though she did blink hard and surreptitiously pinch herself to make absolutely sure. Sirius had just _changed_ in front of her very eyes, and it hadn’t been a dream; when she blinked, it wasn’t going away. 

The couple were on their feet, complaining loudly, but laughing nonetheless now that they’d figured out it was just some stray dog - or so they thought. They didn’t even notice Izza as she watched them returning to the castle. She heard one of them mention that it must have been the gameskeeper’s dog and felt relieved that they weren’t at all suspicious. When she looked back to the dog, she saw it was trotting towards her, looking incredibly pleased with itself for a creature with no facial muscles designed for expression, its tail wagging happily. It stopped in front of her and tilted its head to the side, looking for a pat. Izza took an unconscious step back.         

The dog’s tail drooped sadly and then he was changing again, elongating and reforming back into a human shape. Sirius, once again himself and standing before her, brushed his dark hair from his eyes and looked at Izza, a confused frown on his face. He reached out for her arm and, instinctively, she flinched.

Hurt flickered in Sirius’ eyes. “Did I scare you?” he asked quietly. It was amazing how he could swing so easily between points on his emotional spectrum; it had always been a startling aspect of his personality that Izza, who was by nature quite emotionally unavailable, found difficult to deal with. The change from positively gleeful, to utterly dejected, as he was now, was jolting.

Izza looked at him, directly into his grey eyes. “I’m not scared of you.” It was true; there wasn’t a lot Izza was scared of, having grown up in the wilds of Romania with a liberal reckless streak. “I just... wish you’d given me a little warning instead of springing that on me, especially at this time of night. In the rain. With no warning,” she repeated. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to process all this - she’d known the four Marauders had a big secret; Izza was incredibly perceptive, unable to stop herself from noticing whispered conversations or secretive looks between people. Perhaps it was because she kept so many of her own secrets and was adept at hiding them. Still, even she couldn’t have guessed that _this_ was the secret. The other boys had to be Animagi too. Unregistered, _illegal_ Animagi. A thrill shot up Izza’s spine. 

Sirius was nodding apologetically, sobering in the rain. “I’m sorry.” He smiled a tentative, crooked smile that could have melted the polar caps. “Am I forgiven?” he asked, cupping her face.

Izza sighed. “How could I not forgive you, with those damn eyes of yours? Should be illegal,” she said, muttering the last part. Then, shoving him away and putting her hands on her hips, she said; “But I want the truth. You’re an Animagus… and I’m guessing the other boys are too.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder, then nodded in the direction of the forest. “Let’s walk.”

They walked in silence for a while. Sirius was thinking hard; he wanted Izza to know the truth - he had been thinking about telling her for a while, truth be told - and he knew she deserved that much after what he had just put on her so unexpectedly. He shook his head in disbelief - he didn’t know what it was about this particular girl that made him act so stupid sometimes, like James whenever Lily was around. But something in him, that reckless part of him, had wanted to _show_ Izza. She was a good friend, and she had been for a long time, always there for him when he needed someone who wasn’t one of the boys. Her family was just as messed up as his was; they understood each other. If he was honest with himself, he had wanted Izza to know the truth for a long time, to share a part of himself that was good. If there was one thing he knew for sure about her, it was that she could be trusted with secrets. Sirius knew she had plenty of her own.

But it was here that he came to the reason for his hesitation. His secret was not one, but two and the first - that Remus was a werewolf - was not his to tell.

“I meant it, Sirius. I know there are things you keep from me and I respect that, because I keep a lot to myself, too. But I want to know the truth this time - you owe me that now.” Izza’s voice was quiet, but he knew her well enough to know she was deadly serious.

Izza had stopped beneath a huge tree. The roots had grown like a cradle and she sat down, motioning for Sirius to sit next to her. 

“You’re right, of course. The others can do it, too.” Sirius said, once they were both perched together, neglecting to mention that Remus’ change was not by choice. He smiled, remembering. “It was our fifth year; we’d gotten really curious about Animagi, and we’d been trying to figure it out for ages. I guess it was the thrill of breaking rules – you know what we’re like.” Sirius spoke with practised ease, charming and, he hoped, very convincing. 

Izza laughed and Sirius felt himself release a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “More than most.” 

Sirius laughed and bumped her shoulder affectionately with his. “We don’t exactly spread it around, you know, because of the illegality of how we did it and the fact that we’re not registered.” 

Izza made a crossing motion over her heart. “Consider me sworn to secrecy.” Then she looked at him closely, fixing him with an arresting violet-blue stare. “That’s the whole story?”

Sirius knew in that moment that Izza suspected there was more. Everything he had told her was the truth, of course - it just wasn’t all of the truth. His heart sank as he looked at Izza’s lovely face. He hated lying, especially to her, and he knew that Izza despised liars more than anything else in the world. He could only hope that, if she ever came to know the truth about Remus, she would understand that he had only been protecting his friend.

“That’s the whole story,” he said, crossing his fingers behind his back.  

She nodded, though she still looked at him piercingly. “Okay.” Izza seemed to accept his word for it, despite her apparent suspicions. Moments later, she perked up. “So, Black,” she said, in a low, attractive voice as she slid right up close to him. Her lips were inches from his neck when she continued. “Is that Firewhiskey still burning in your blood?”

Sirius considered for a moment. “Yeah. Why, were you finally considering my offer to pay a visit to the Cupboard with me?” 

Izza laughed and Sirius grinned. The Cupboard was a particularly roomy broom cupboard on the fourth floor that was favoured by couples for… certain activities. 

“Not with you, love,” Izza said, with a brief giggle. “Not that you’re not ridiculously good-looking, and virtually irresistible,” she amended quickly, spying the look on his face. “But I’ve got my own little thing going on at the moment.” 

Sirius groaned. “You’re not still seeing that prat from Ravenclaw, are you?” 

Izza scowled. “I’m not ‘seeing’ him, Sirius; that would imply some sort of commitment. Sean just happens to be an excellent shag.” Izza lifted her chin defiantly, daring him to question her further.

“But he’s such a… a git! You do realise you can do so much better, right?” 

Izza rolled her eyes. “Again, I’m not marrying him. I am simply using him in a casual way, for my own selfish purposes.”

Sirius sat in silence for a while, thinking that over. He couldn’t pretend to be pleased, but then again, Izza was his friend and she always had his back. He’d have hers too, whatever that might mean. “So why’d you want to know if I was still drunk?” he asked eventually. 

“To make sure you’re not still planning to go for a midnight joy ride in the middle of a storm.” 

Sirius laughed. “Oh, you little tease! You can relax: that urge has departed.” 

Izza didn’t seem to hear him; she was laughing a little to herself, her fingertips touching a gouge mark that Sirius himself had left in that particular tree. Sirius looked at her curiously. “Remember that time we were in the forest, and we found that cave?” she said, her eyes far away. “And I desperately wanted to go in, but you didn’t think it was a good idea, and we spent an hour and a half arguing over the finer definitions of recklessness. You were being so boring that night.” 

“Oh, Izza,” Sirius sighed, a grin coming to his lips at the memory. “You were so drunk that night.” 

Izza had to laugh at the irony of that. “Pot,” she said, “meet kettle.” 

Sirius laughed too, but he looked at her with tired eyes. “Kettle, I’m sleepy.” He yawned widely, holding out an arm to her and beckoning.

“Let’s go then and put Pot to bed,” Izza said, pretending to be serious as she took his hand and pulled him up off the tree.

* * *

 

“What did I do last night?” Peter moaned. It was Saturday morning, and the Gryffindors had finally managed to drag themselves down to breakfast. It was no surprise that their plates were piled high with hangover ‘cures’ – bacon, eggs, baked beans on toast and goblets of frosty, delicious pumpkin juice. They had all been very quiet up until this point – they never could handle much conversation of a morning after a night of partying. 

Marlene was giggling quietly. “What _didn’t_ you do, Peter? That question seems more appropriate.”

James, the least hungover of all of them - a first, in actual fact - was smirking. “Yes, there was the dancing on the table…” 

Lily had something of a headache, mostly from how late they’d been awake, but she couldn’t help joining in. “Or what about the way you kept telling Remus how much you love him? I think poor Remus is a little bit concerned that you’ve been lusting after his _‘dreamy eyes’_ all these years.” 

The seventh years dissolved into laughter while Peter blushed scarlet and buried his head in his arms with a horrified whimper. 

“Poor Peter,” Mary said, patting him on the back and trying to stifle her giggles. “At least James didn’t get out his camera - he was threatening to, at one point.”

“I don’t remember anything,” Peter croaked, refilling his goblet. “I don’t think Rosmerta’s mead agrees with me.”  

Lily took the opportunity, while the others were laughing, to look at each of them. Potter seemed to have shaken off his glum mood from the previous night, if his teasing of Peter was anything to go by. Maybe she had been imagining things. Lily rolled her eyes mentally – it wasn’t as if she even _liked_ Potter. She shouldn’t care about his moods at all. Sirius and Izza were rather quiet; they sat next to each other, eating their breakfast in companionable silence. Izza was glancing over an Ancient Runes translation (why she, James, Sirius and Remus had elected to take Runes was beyond Lily). She knew they had gone for a walk last night, and she also knew that it had been Sirius and not Izza who needed to clear their head this time. She had spotted them from her window, mere shadows in the night, walking close together.

A fluttering, whispering sort of noise distracted Lily from her observations. James and Remus looked up simultaneously; Izza said “Post” without even glancing skyward. Sure enough, owls flooded the Great Hall moments later, swooping down around them with packages and letters.

An enormous owl with dark feathers and glowing amber eyes landed gracefully in front of Izza, in between a plate of bacon and a tower of toast. As she untied her newspaper and a letter from the owl’s leg, it turned its luminous eyes on Lily, who smiled at it nervously. 

“Nice bird,” she said nervously, offering it a crust. As affectionate as the owl was towards Izza, Lily always thought it looked like it would just as quickly take a finger, as deliver a letter. 

“Good boy, Magnus,” Izza crooned, stroking the owl’s dark chest. It hooted in a devoted sort of way before leaving to join all the other owls in the Owlery. 

Remus and Sirius too had had papers delivered by their owls. Marlene had received a tin of her mother’s famous Melting Moments, and Peter was reading a letter from his mother. Izza pushed away her half-finished breakfast and unfolded her copy of the _Daily Prophet._  

“Can I have a read of that, Remus?” Lily asked, gesturing at his newspaper. 

He nodded, indicating his own plate, which was still nearly full. “Go for it; I’ll eat first.” 

Lily unfolded and smoothed the paper, scanning the front page. It all seemed rather mundane news - a London witch was fined for failing procure a Crup licence, a Wizengamot session had been postponed for unspecified reasons - as if the worries of the Wizarding world simply did not exist. Lily rifled through the rest of the paper, her frown deepening with each page she turned. There wasn’t a word about any of what they had come to understand (mostly through what their Professors had told them) was an impending war; there had been odd disappearances, strange happenings in the Muggle world, and whispers of Dark wizards for nearly a year now.

“Nothing,” she huffed frustratedly, folding up the paper and slapping it down on the table. Izza looked up at Lily curiously over her paper and she saw the four boys glance her way, too. Mary and Marlene were deep in conversation, and seemed unaware of Lily’s outburst.

“What’s nothing?” Izza asked carefully. 

“There’s nothing in this,” Lily stabbed at the paper, “about that missing girl.” 

James and Sirius exchanged confused glances. “Be specific, Evans,” Sirius said, putting his fork down onto his plate. 

“There hasn’t been a word in the _Prophet_ about that Collins girl from Hufflepuff,” Lily said slowly, waiting for them to realise what she was talking about. “It’s not like people don’t know – I don’t think many people here _wouldn’t_ have written home about it.” 

“That fourth year?” Izza asked, wrinkling her nose as she tried to recall.

“Fifth, I think she was,” Remus corrected, looking to Lily for confirmation. She nodded. 

Sirius and James both looked like they were struggling to place the girl too. “She had short hair, right, and it was blonde?” James asked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius agreed, slapping Potter’s arm as recognition light his expression. “And she was short.” A wicked grin formed on his lips. “You’d know her, Prongs, she’s rather well _endowed._ ” Sirius gestured in front of his chest.

Izza rolled her eyes as James let out a noise of recollection and Lily glowered at the boys. “I’m glad it’s all a big joke to you,” she said snappishly. “A girl is missing, and you two are discussing her…” Lily paused, groping for a word. 

“Assets?” Sirius suggested helpfully. James sniggered. 

“Are you seven or seventeen?” Izza asked Sirius, though a tiny smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. It was easy to separate themselves from the tragedy of the missing girl, when none of them had ever spoken to her and didn’t know her at all. 

“Do you even need to ask?” Peter said to Izza, grinning. 

“Lily’s right,” Remus said, coming to her aid. “It’s awfully strange that there hasn’t even been a mention of Esther in the paper. Her father is a Ministry man, and fairly high up, too, from what I hear. I tried to ask my dad about it-” Remus’ father had friends in the Ministry “- but he couldn’t tell me anything. I think a lot of people know something about what happened to the Collins family, but they’re too afraid to speak out. I think some people are doing a lot of covering up.” 

Sirius was nodding seriously now, his sharp grey eyes sliding over to rest on the Hufflepuff table. “Have you noticed that no one really says anything about it? It’s like everyone knows she’s gone, but no one wants to talk about it - like it’ll bring the bad luck on themselves.” 

Izza was frowning deeply, her eyes scanning her newspaper once more. “Have you seen this?” she asked, turning the paper around. “Have you seen what they’re calling him - that guy they reckon is the ringleader behind all the disappearances and attacks, Voldemort?”

Sirius leaned in, peering closely at the words of the article over Izza’s shoulder. Lily jumped when he let out an indignant sort of spluttering noise. “ _You-know-who?_ ” he said derisively, as though his eyes were deceiving him. 

“Apparently, people are starting to believe that saying his name equates to an act of defiance. They think that his name alone will bring his wrath down on their families,” Izza said darkly. “I heard a first year girl say it the other day. When I asked her about it, she said her mother told her not to speak his name. It’s hysteria. It’s bloody madness!”

They sat in silence for a while, thinking all that over. What had begun as a subtle shift in their world a couple of years ago - a random disappearance here, an apparently unprovoked attack there - was rapidly snowballing into full blown war. This Voldemort character and his supporters, the self-proclaimed ‘Death Eaters,’ had moved out into the open last year, confirming suspicions that the disappearances and violent attacks on both Muggles and wizards were all linked. But, surprisingly, the Ministry seemed reluctant to act. Sure, it seemed like security had been increased - Auror sightings were becoming more frequent in places like the Hog’s Head and the Three Broomsticks as well as Diagon Alley - but while the Ministry looked as though it wanted to be _seen_ acting, they also seemed reluctant to involve themselves. There were whispers that Voldemort had numerous spies and people within the Ministry who were working for him.

“You all saw Diagon Alley over the summer?” Remus asked, and they nodded. “It was so strange, like everyone wanted to do what they had to and get out of there as quickly as possible. People are terrified, and if the Ministry doesn’t do _something_ significant soon, they’re going to have to deal with a mass panic.”

“What are you guys so gloomy about?” Mary asked chirpily, interrupting her conversation with Marlene - they had completely missed their classmates’ conversation. She stood up, gathering her bag and glanced at her watch. “We should all probably get a move on. Breakfast will be closing soon.” She turned to Marlene. “Are we going to find Professor Kettleburn?” 

Mary was right about the time; they gathered their things quickly and left the Great Hall. At the bottom of the marble stairs, they went their separate ways; James, Izza, Sirius and Remus were heading upstairs to the library to work on their Ancient Runes, Lily and Peter would go outside, intending to ask for Professor Sprout’s help with their Herbology homework. Marlene and Mary had an extra credit session with their Care of Magical Creatures Professor on the first floor. 

As they bade goodbye to the others, Sirius, James, Remus, and Izza began climbing the stairs. They were quiet after their sombre breakfast discussion, but Sirius didn’t miss the fact that Izza was still clutching the letter that had arrived for her. It was unopened.

“Who’s that from?” Sirius asked, knowing Izza would soon tell him where to go, if she thought the question was too personal. She was an intensely private person, one who liked to keep her personal life private. Sirius had no doubt that not even Lily, her best friend, knew all the things about herself that Izza liked to keep hidden. 

Izza frowned ferociously at the letter, as though it bitten her. “My grandmother.” 

That didn’t need an explanation - Izza was more secretive about her family than anything else in her life, but Sirius was well aware what they were like; his own. Her family on her father’s side was an old Romanian lineage, very rich and very powerful but also very prone to pride, and manipulation and blood prejudice, as many old pureblood families were. Sirius knew that Izza herself had inherited that talent for manipulation, and had been known to use it to get what she wanted. Her father had been the youngest child, and only heir, after three older sisters. He had been every bit the apple of his parents’ eyes until he had decided that he wanted to marry a beautiful Swedish witch. Despite her pure blood, the Moldovan’s had deemed her unfit to marry their son. Headstrong, he had married her anyway, much to the ire of his family. Twelve years later, when their son, Kes, was not quite eleven and their daughter, Isidora, was seven, she had died in circumstances that Izza had never disclosed to Sirius. Her father had packed them up and moved them to England a month later and requested that Kes be allowed to attend Hogwarts when he turned eleven. According to Izza, the Moldovan’s had refrained from disinheriting her father in order to maintain contact with their beloved grandchildren. “And, by contact,” Izza had said at the time, “They mean total control.” Then, seven years later, her father was dead too, and now it was just Izza and her brother. That was the extent of what Sirius knew, though there was plenty more that Izza kept quiet.

“What does she want?” James asked.

“No idea,” Izza said, a familiar tinge of bitterness in her words. It seemed to come up every time she talked about her family - not that that was often. “Oh, wait, it’ll probably be about how disappointed they are that Kes and I didn’t come home over the summer and how lovely the latest boy they’ve found is and how _perfect_ he’d be as a match for me. I can see it now, he has _perfect_ manners, and _perfect_ looks, and of course, he’s the _perfect_ pureblood.” Izza’s voice was dripping in sarcasm and her fist was clenched, her full lips pressed into a thin line.

James and Remus were staring at her and Sirius wasn’t surprised - this was the most passionate and revealing speech she’d ever made about her family, to anyone other than him.  He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed sympathetically, to let her know he was there and he understood. Merlin knows how many times he’d vented to her, knowing she’d understand what it was like having such a controlling, manipulative family.

When they reached the library and found seats at a table tucked away in the corner, Sirius was still thinking about Izza and her family. It wasn’t hard to see why her family would want to manipulate her to their own advantage. Izza had a certain something about her, a little talent that seemed to ensure that when she wanted something she got it, which could be extremely advantageous to anyone she was loyal to - and a big part of that ‘something’ was her looks. No one could deny that she was very, very beautiful, with her tall, slender figure and her long, dark brown hair. When she wore her hair natural (as she most often did), it waved down her back effortlessly, and Sirius had seen many a girl sigh over it. Then, there was her face; devastatingly lovely, the kind of beauty that drew the eye and turned heads. Her brows were dark and arched (apparently, she got them from her grandmother, and, like her grandmother, was capable of inspiring a complete sense of inferiority or a trembling fear with either a lift of a brow or a simple frown) and her cheekbones were high. Her nose was straight, and her mouth was a sculptor’s dream - full and beautifully shaped. And her eyes… her eyes were what captivated Sirius, and indeed, every other male at Hogwarts the most, with their eldritch violet-blue colour and the fringe of long, dark lashes around them.

You see, Izza wasn’t, and had never been, adverse to using her looks to get what she wanted. She was charming and charismatic; she knew what she had working in her favour, and she used it to her best advantage. She had been known to be manipulative and selfish and vain at times, but, in Sirius’ humble opinion, all that was generally wiped out the moment she turned her mega-watt smile on you or did something that made you aware of how innately good she was, because, for all her faults, she was actually a good person and an intensely loyal, trustworthy friend. After all, she wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing.

* * *

 

_My dearest Isidora,_

_I hope this letter finds you very well, dear, and enjoying being back at school. I do wish you’d have given some consideration to Headmaster Kostova’s generous offer - the St Petersburg Academy is an excellent, prestigious school, and your grandfather and I would have loved to have you attending school closer to home. But never mind that now; what’s done is done. It isn’t long now until you will have completed your education, and then you can finally come home from dreary England. Transylvania misses you, just as we do._

_Your brother happened to let slip (as he is far more judicious in writing to us regularly - sometimes I think he just wants us ‘off your back,’ as if a grandmother doesn’t have a right to correspond with her granddaughter) - that you are taking Ancient Runes this year. I thought we agreed that it was a waste of your time? Regardless, your grandfather is eager to begin instructing you in the art of trade. His merchant friends seem to think a knowledge of Runes is impressive, particularly as Kes assures us you are very good at it. Perhaps it was not the worst decision you could have made._

_R_ _ăzvan Cirstea and his delightful son, Grigori, paid us a visit last week. They were in Sibiu on business and dropped in for a couple of days. Grigori really is a most wonderful young man, and with such good breeding, too. I made your favourite ţ_ _uic_ _ă for them, and there is plenty left for you when you come home. He is eager to meet you; already, he has commented to me on numerous occasions about your beauty. Your portrait enjoys the flattery immensely._

_Speaking of home, Isidora, I hope we can expect you for Christmas? Your cousin Ivanka is planning to have her engagement party in that time, and I know she would dearly love you to be there. You remember she is marrying Cezar Stoichev, Petru’s son? I always thought he was quite taken with you… but it is undoubtedly the best prospect Ivanka has. As for myself, my expectation is that you will be there._

_I_ _’ll conclude now, and we eagerly await your return letter._

_\- Grandmother_

* * *

 

Izza was rubbing her temples, trying to stave off the headache she felt coming on. The letter from her grandmother was a like a beacon shining from her bag - she felt its presence even when she couldn’t see it, the way a particularly bright light lingered behind your eyelids even when they were closed. She was walking back to the Gryffindor common room with Sirius, James and Remus. They were going to put their books and bags away before lunch and enjoy the rest of the afternoon at their leisure. Sirius put a hand on her elbow, reminding her to jump the trick stair.

As they rounded the corner, James, who was a couple of steps ahead of Remus, nearly ran headlong into a group of students. A quick glance told them the others were Slytherins of varying years - seventh years Jared Avery, Rabastan Lestrange, and Vera Madden, plus sixth years Evan Rosier and Sirius’ brother Regulus. Izza was glad that Snape was not among them, as his presence was likely to incense James and Sirius more than any of the others and spoil her quiet Saturday afternoon.

“Izza,” Rosier said, smirking, his eyes sliding straight past Sirius to her, as if he didn’t exist. Sirius automatically took half a step to the side, so he was partially obscuring her. “You look good, even for a Gryffindor.”

Vera Madden looked sour, though this wasn’t unusual. “She looks like she hasn’t slept in a week,” she said venomously, appraising Izza with her flat brown eyes. 

Izza noticed Regulus’ eyes sweep over her too, though his eyes lingered longer, especially on her subtle curves. The younger Black was only human, after all. “Forget it, Rosier,” she said, without inflection. “You actually couldn’t pay me to touch you, not even if the choice was between you and a chimera. I know that concept might be difficult for you to grasp in that empty head of yours.” 

Rosier just laughed, as if Izza was joking and he was in on it. He ran a hand through his wavy blonde hair, his grin bordering on lecherous. Avery and Lestrange, on the other hand, looked far more hostile.

“Not following that Mudblood around, Potter? Did she finally snap and hex you the way you deserve?” Lestrange had always had an odd voice - the pitch wasn’t quite proportional to the graveliness of his tone. It was grating on the nerves.    

“Oh, if that’s not the pot calling the kettle black,” James said in a hard voice, bristling at the Slytherins’ use of the ‘M’ word. “We all know you spend all your time obsessing after your brother’s wife. Sirius here tells us his cousin is a right psychopath, though, so maybe you’re better off anyway.” 

Lestrange’s mouth pressed together in anger.

“Be careful, Potter,” Avery cut in. His voice was completely expressionless, like he was bored witless. “Talk like that’ll get you into trouble one of these days.”

“Bite me, Avery,” James snapped, clearly sick of the exchange. “We all know you don’t have the guts. Now get out of my way.”

“What are you rats doing so far from the dungeons anyway?” Sirius asked, enjoying the expressions of rage on the Slytherin’s faces. “Doesn’t the bright light hurt your eyes?”

“That’s enough,” Izza said firmly, when Lestrange’s hand twitched in his pocket, over what Izza would bet her last Galleon was his wand. She took hold of Sirius’ arm and steered him forward, around the group. “My headache is bad enough as it is.”

As they passed the Slytherins, Rosier called out to her, “I hear sex is a good pain reliever!”

“I’m going to hex him into next week,” Sirius hissed, looking over his shoulder and reaching for his wand.

“No, you’re going to keep walking,” Izza snapped. “Keep walking, James.”

* * *

 

That evening, Lily was seated at a table near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, trying to finish a Potions assignment on non-magical plants with healing properties and their uses in potion making. Izza and Remus were on the floor, engaged in a rather vicious chess battle. Peter was watching, indiscriminately cheering whenever either player lost a piece. Sirius and James were both attempting their homework, though the formers’ eyes were sliding over to the chess game more and more often. Marlene was curled up in an armchair, writing a letter and Mary had gone to bed not long before, completely exhausted.

“Ha!” Izza cried triumphantly. “Take that, Lupin!”

Lily glanced over; sure enough, Izza had well and truly checkmated Remus. Remus groaned and moved out of the way.

“Who wants to lose next?” Izza asked cockily, spreading her arms wide and beckoning all comers. Sirius quickly threw down his quill and took up Remus’ vacated patch of floor.

“I’ll play you, but I won’t lose,” Sirius answered, equally confident. Lily didn’t miss the direction his eyes took when Izza leaned forward to reset the board, her white shirt coming open slightly at the top. She was pretty sure James caught it too, because he lifted a brow in amusement.

As the game got underway, Lily tried to concentrate on her essay. She was so close to finishing that she just wanted to get it out of the way. Her mind was a little less cooperative - it kept wandering, and twenty minutes later, as Sirius announced “Check,” she had only written another three lines. By the time Sirius managed to checkmate Izza, Lily decided that she wasn’t going to get any more done and gave up.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, to no one in particular. Only James looked up at her properly. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but was interrupted by a triumphant shout from Izza.

“You’re not going to beat me this time, Black,” she assured Sirius. When Lily looked back to James, he looked away, his mouth firmly shut.

Unable to be bothered with Potter at that time, Lily packed up her things and retreated upstairs into the quiet of the girl’s dorms. She could hear Mary’s deep, even breathing and her hangings were rustling in the light breeze that was coming through the open window. She went to her trunk and pulled out her nightdress. As she changed, she thought about Izza. The other girl was putting on a good front, but, sometimes, Lily really wished she would just _talk_ about what was bothering her, instead of bottling it all up.

It must have been the fact that she was thinking about Izza that made Lily wander over to her bed instead of her own as she came out of the bathroom. As she went to go to her own bed, she noticed the corner of an envelope sticking out from under Izza’s bed. Automatically, she bent to pick it up, running her fingers over the heavy, expensive parchment. Turning it over, she saw that it had already been opened. It was addressed simply to ‘ _Isidora Moldovan, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’_

Lily fought with herself for a moment. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to know if this letter contained the answer to the mystery that Kes’ letter had raised. On the other hand, she was loath to betray her friend in such a way. If Izza ever found out… Lily was sure she would never be forgiven.

She couldn’t help herself, though. Kes has made it sound very serious, as though Izza might even be in danger and Lily loved her best friend too much to not want to know if there was something wrong. Her heart thudded painfully, and her fingers shook as she opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. She scanned the words quickly, guiltily, before shoving the parchment back in the envelope and tossing it back on the floor where she found had it.

As she sat down on her own bed, breathing deeply, she thought to herself that Izza’s grandmother sounded every bit as controlling as Izza had always hinted she was. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t quite shake off the disappointment she felt at the letter not containing anything that so much as hinted towards the mystery Kes’ letter had centred around. Worse, a little seed of guilt had nestled in her chest the moment she had opened that envelope, and now that it had been for nothing, it didn’t seem to want to go away.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Lily quickly jumped under her covers and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. She heard soft footsteps padding across the room to Izza’s bed. Her heart thumped madly when Izza murmured softly, “How did that end up down there?” Thankfully, she seemed to think nothing of it, and, eventually, Lily fell into an uneasy slumber.

 


	3. Chapter Two: It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Loses an Eye

_ CHAPTER TWO: IT _ _ ’ _ _ S ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL SOMEONE LOSES AN EYE _

* * *

 

“Have you seen this?” James asked Sirius, tapping the Gryffindor noticeboard. He had paused in front of it briefly as they passed it on their way out of the common room for breakfast one morning. 

Sirius shook his head disinterestedly. “What is it?” His voice was bored and sleepy, which made James smile. Sirius was _not_ , never had been and never would be, a morning person.

“Duelling Club starts back on Thursday,” he answered, grinning. The boys loved Duelling Club - it was a lot of fun, and often a good release of anger or tension. Plus, it always felt good to know that they were learning and preparing themselves for the real world - while having a right royal good time. With all the bad news they found surrounding them, it was uplifting to feel like they were doing _something_ to get ready for what awaited them _._

Sirius perked up a bit at that. “Excellent,” he said. “We have an excuse to kick the Slytherins’ slimy arses again - without getting detention for it.”

James laughed at that - their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Buchanan, had introduced a ‘friendly’ competition between the House teams the previous year for some house cup points, and Gryffindor had won, thankfully. After all, if they’d lost out to Slytherin, they never would have heard the end of it.

“Are the team captains on there?” Sirius asked, leaning around James in an attempt to see the notice.

James shook his head. “It just says at the bottom that team captains will be decided after a ‘test’ this year.” Tapping his wand to the parchment, James watched in satisfaction as his and Sirius’ names appeared on the sign-up sheet.

“Excellent!” Sirius repeated, this time with more enthusiasm. “A little friendly competition, Prongsy! Moony better watch his back.” Remus had been their team captain last year, because Professor Buchanan said he was ‘cool and level-headed,’ unlike James and Sirius. For their part, the boys had taken great offence to that.  

“Yeah, I can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t pick you or me as a Duelling team captain,” James said innocently. Sirius laughed and clapped James on the shoulder.

“Save the dramatics for now, Prongs. It’s breakfast time and I’m starving.”

James rolled his eyes. “Padfoot, when are you ever not hungry?”

Sirius didn’t even pause. “Right after an excellent shag.”

James snorted and gave Sirius a friendly shove. “That was a little bit more than I cared to know, Pads. But thanks.”

Sirius grinned as he followed James out the portrait hole. “You’re just jealous. It’s not my fault you’re not getting any. Poor, lovesick little Prongs.” Sirius tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You know, maybe a good shag with another girl would make the lovely Miss Evans a little _green_ with envy.”

“Maybe you’re right,” James said, as though commenting on the weather and Sirius stopped dead, looking at him in shock. “Maybe I’ll find myself a date for Saturday night.”

Sirius was still staring at James, his mouth hanging open slightly. He’d been completely expecting James to say something like it would do his undying love for Lily a dishonour to date another girl, not to bloody well agree with him. “Can you repeat that?” he asked incredulously. He reached out his hand towards James’ forehead, as if to take his temperature. James swatted him away.

James looked at him, a curious little half-smile on his lips. “Don’t look at me like that, Pads. I’m perfectly capable of getting a date.”

“Well yeah, but all I’m saying is you’re a little out of practice,” Sirius teased, a cheeky smile forming.

“I am nothing of the sort,” James said haughtily, drawing himself up to his full height. “I could get a date right now, if I felt so inclined.”

Sirius tickled the door that was an entrance to a short cut they often took down to the lower levels. It opened for him and he ushered James through. When they emerged at the top of the stairs in the Entrance Hall, Sirius gestured to a group of sixth year girls who were milling around.

“Go on then, _stud,_ ” he said, trying to suppress his laughter. “Put your Galleons where your mouth is, and ask one of those girls out.”

James shot him that same arrogant look and raised a hand to ruffle his hair. “Don’t be too disappointed when I succeed, Padfoot.”

Sirius watched as James approached the girls, who spotted him just as he got close to them. A pretty Hufflepuff with shoulder-length blonde hair, who seemed to be the bravest, stepped to the fore of the group. Sirius laughed as James’ stance changed immediately. Suddenly, he was a little more casual, a little more ‘couldn’t-care-less.’ The blonde girl smiled.

A couple of minutes later, James returned to Sirius, triumph written plain as day in his features. “It’s all set,” he said cockily. “Anna and I are going out this Saturday.”

“Good for you, Prongs,” Sirius laughed, clapping his best mate on the back as they continued down the stairs to the Great Hall. “I was beginning to think you’d lost your bollocks.”

They entered the Great Hall, both craning their necks in order to spot their friends. James was the first to see them, and he dragged Sirius in their direction.

“Took you two long enough,” Remus said when they reached them, looking up from his breakfast long enough to grace them with a welcoming grin.

“Prongs was scoring himself a date,” Sirius said proudly, poking Izza in the ribs to make her move over for him. “You know that cute little Hufflepuff, Anna Braith? She’s fully ready to meet the stag.” This was for Remus and Peter’s benefit; they just rolled their eyes and smiled.

Lily had looked up as Sirius spoke, and he winked at her, pleased at the element of shock in her expression. Sirius didn’t mind Lily - in fact, he even thought she and James would be good together - but he also didn’t mind reminding her that James did have a life other than his professed love for her. He sniggered when Lily flushed slightly and looked away, embarrassed to have been caught. 

“It took you thirty minutes to score a date?” Peter was asking James incredulously. “You’ve lost your touch, mate.”

Izza giggled at that, but stifled it quickly after the quelling look James sent her way.

“No, I haven’t,” James said imperiously. “For your information, Duelling Club starts back this Thursday. We were reading the noticeboard.”

“Congratulations, you’ve figured out how to read,” Marlene said dryly, but she was joking.

“You two are joining again, right?” Sirius asked, addressing Izza and Lily. He already knew Remus and Peter would be in – there was very little that the Marauders didn’t do as a foursome.

Izza and Lily nodded, the former shaking out her long hair as she did so. “My brother was on my case about it, saying it’s wise in this ‘social climate,’” Izza added, shrugging.

“What about you two?” Remus asked Marlene and Mary. Previously, they had always had other extra-curricular commitments that had clashed with Duelling Club meetings.

“My father wants me to join,” Marlene said, buttering a slice of toast. “Because of everything that’s going on outside Hogwarts.”

Mary was nodding her agreement. “My mum, too. She said I should make it one of my priorities. They’re all really worried, aren’t they?”

“By the looks of things, they should be,” Izza said darkly, unfurling the newspaper her owl had delivered.

* * *

 

By the time Thursday rolled around, the seventh years were beginning to consider Duelling Club a very welcome distraction from studying and homework, which their teachers were prescribing as though NEWT’s were a week away instead of actual months.

The seventh year Gryffindors gathered in the common room before leaving; it seemed like a rather sad sign of the difficult times they lived in that they weren’t the only year in Gryffindor that had every student signed up to the club. They laughed and joked all the way down to the Entrance Hall, for Mary looked a little nervous and they wanted to make her comfortable. As much as they all talked about being prepared for the outside world and whatever awaited them, Duelling Club was still a bit of fun and a bit of a muck around.  

Due to the overwhelming amount of students who had signed up that year however, Duelling Club was being held in the Great Hall to accommodate the numbers. When the group entered, the first thing Lily noticed was the ceiling - dark, thunderous clouds roiled overhead, and flashes of lightning illuminated the sky briefly. In the hall itself, the house tables had been pushed to the sides and a stage set up in the centre of the room. Professor Buchanan, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, stood casually with Professor Flitwick on the stage.

They made their way over to the students mulling around and quickly organised themselves as Flitwick instructed - first according to House, then year level. The second years - the youngest students permitted to join - were up the front, and the seventh years brought up the rear.

“Welcome back!” Professor Buchanan said cheerfully, once everyone was assembled. He was quite a handsome man; youthful, and broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw and wavy golden-blonde hair over a pair of warm brown eyes. Izza and Lily smirked at each other as whispers rippled through the girls in the crowd. Izza always joked that it wasn’t right for someone to be that good-looking in their mid-fourties. “It’s wonderful to see so many new faces this year! Of course, you all recognise my assistant, Professor Flitwick.”

“Pretty much all of the seventh year Slytherins are here,” Remus murmured to Lily, who was closest to him. A glance confirmed this; the Slytherins stood with their arms folded and almost identical looks of boredom and mild contempt on their faces. “Do you think they practice synchronising their body language after classes?” he quipped, and Lily quickly stifled a giggle with her sleeve.

“Now, as this is our first meet back this year, and we have so many new duellists, I thought we might start with a little demonstration of the basics from some of our more seasoned members,” Buchanan continued, scanning the crowd. “Perhaps some of our seventh years? Who would like to volunteer?”

Lily saw James and Sirius look at each other and shrug before raising their hands.

“Excellent!” Buchanan said, his tone excited. “Mr Black, Mr Potter, come on up.” James and Sirius, for all their joking and their pranking, were two of the most intelligent and prodigiously skilled students at Hogwarts, and they were excellent duellists, so the Professors’ enthusiasm made sense. All the gathered students politely applauded – the females in the room a little more eagerly than the boys.

All eyes followed the boys as they went to the stage and lifted themselves up onto it. Buchanan moved them so they were four or five metres apart and facing each other.

“Now boys, if you could draw your wands, please.”

James and Sirius complied, pointing their wands at each other, identical, wicked smiles curling their lips. Lily rolled her eyes internally; the pair were like brothers, with an arrogant kind of rivalry about who was better at pretty much everything they did. Professor Buchanan adjusted James’ wand arm very slightly, then turned back to the crowd of students.

“As you can see, Mr Black and Mr Potter are doing an excellent job of demonstrating accepted combative wand positions. Take note of Mr Black’s stance - see the strong core and back leg bent at the knee for power and manoeuvrability? And see Mr Potter’s arm - don’t lock your elbow, and keep your shoulders in the active position. Of course, the first part of a duel is the bow - but that is fairly self-explanatory, and I think we can safely skip that for now,” Buchanan chuckled. “Who else would like to volunteer?”

Professor Flitwick seemed to make a few suggestions to Buchanan, and he picked out a Ravenclaw seventh year named Eliza McCarthy, and Jared Avery too. Lily again had to suppress an eye roll at the looks of disdain on Sirius and James’ faces as the latter mounted the stage.

“One-on-one duelling is very different from, and, usually much easier than team duelling,” Professor Buchanan informed the rapt students, sending Eliza to stand with Sirius and Avery to James (much to the apparent disgust of both boys). “Today, I’d like to show you some team duelling. Notice how I split up our Gryffindor duo?” The students in the crowd nodded. “This is because, in a real duelling situation, you are most likely not going to be in your comfort zone. You might find yourself duelling with someone you have never even spoken to-” Sirius winked at Eliza, “- or perhaps someone you don’t particularly like.” James and Avery glared at each other. Buchanan didn’t seem to notice - or rather, didn’t pay them any mind if he did - and continued. “The point is, you must learn to adapt, and there is no better practise at adapting than duelling with someone you don’t know.”

Buchanan had the pairs perform a few simple duelling manoeuvres, for the benefit of the new students, before giving them a free run for five minutes, after which Sirius and Eliza emerged winners. James and Avery had been too reluctant to go near enough to each other to work as a proper team. The other students seemed thrilled by the action, and the Professors had chosen that point to begin splitting groups into fours.

“Duel with one person,” Professor Buchanan said from the stage. “Then, when we call time, swap partners. Get used to different styles and practise adapting.”

James and Sirius had reached the Gryffindors again. Sirius cast a charming smile over his shoulder to Eliza, who was rejoining the Ravenclaws, blushing furiously and gazing after Sirius with a love-struck expression.

“Want to be my partner, Evans?” James asked, grinning.

Lily opened her mouth to say no, thanks, she’d rather partner Izza, just as Izza turned to Sirius.

“Come on, Black, it’ll be easy,” she said, indicating James and Lily. He grinned at her.

“Great minds think alike, eh, Moldovan?” Sirius said, brandishing his wand at James.

“Guess you’ve got no choice now,” James said, almost apologetically, as Lily glanced around, only to discover that Remus was partnering Marlene, and Peter was with Mary.

Lily pulled out her wand. “Guess not,” she sighed, feeling a little bit of dread as Izza smiled at her dangerously.

Professor Buchanan called for wands at the ready, and then told them to begin. Izza had always been quick; she struck like the lightning flashing overhead the moment Professor Buchanan gave the go-ahead. It was only James’ last second Shield Charm that saved Lily from a hex that would have had her pirouetting uncontrollably around the room. She and James answered similarly; and for a few minutes, it was a game of cast and deflect, with coloured spells flying in every direction.

Sirius and Izza were a very good team - they were both agile and swift, and they moved mutually, always aware of where each other was and what they were doing, seemingly without looking at each other, as if they were extensions of the same person. But what Lily was most surprised about was her and James; they made a surprisingly good pair. It was such a close duel that many other groups had stopped to watch in fascination.

Sirius and Izza began wearing James and Lily down eventually, though; Sirius let out an exhilarated laugh and hit James with a Sponge-Knees Curse when the other boy’s attention shifted to Izza for a fraction of a second. Moments later, Izza had blasted Lily off her feet and disarmed her.

Their spectators clapped as Lily laughed and allowed Izza to help her to her feet. “You two are ridiculous,” she said, in reference to Izza and Sirius.

“Ridiculously good,” Izza corrected, pretending to be serious.

The thrill of competition was humming through Lily’s veins. “How about we play boys versus girls?” she challenged.

James and Sirius exchanged wicked grins. “Oh, you’re on, Evans,” Sirius crowed.

If Lily had thought she and James had worked well together, she was blown away by Sirius and James - they were terrifyingly good, hexing and deflecting uncannily fast, as if they knew each other’s very thoughts. They danced around, their moves perfectly synced, and Lily could really appreciate the depth and breadth of their friendship.

Izza was lighter on her feet than Lily, but the disadvantage of knowing someone well enough to be able to duel brilliantly with them was that they knew how you worked when you went up _against_ them. It was thus with Izza and Sirius; they were evenly matched, and it was a matter of who would be the first to be too predictable.

Lily saw it happening almost before it did happen; Izza shot an _Incarcerous_ at Sirius, which missed by millimetres. She was off-balance, though, and pivoted onto her dominant foot to regain her stasis. Sirius had anticipated this, however; his next spell hit home and sent Izza careening backwards into Jared Avery, who was duelling with Evan Rosier close by.

“Get off me, you filthy Gryffindor,” he snarled, shoving her away. She hit the floor hard and, quite suddenly, the room was tense, and the wands that were drawn were no longer drawn for a play duel.

Peter and Remus were closest; they rushed forward and helped Izza to her feet. She had split the skin across her cheekbone open on the hard floor and blood was dripping down her face. She shook the boys off, trying to stem the flow of blood with her hand.

“Apologise!” Sirius demanded furiously, his wand directed at Avery’s chest.

“Make me, Black,” Avery retorted, equally incensed. The other Slytherins had gathered around, and Lily craned her neck and looked for Professor Buchanan - surely he had noticed the Gryffindor/Slytherin standoff taking place in the middle of his club meeting?

Izza had shrugged out of Remus’ grip and she went to Sirius, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “Just leave it,” she said, too low for the Slytherins to hear. “I’m fine, and it’s not worth it.”

“What’s the matter, Black? Not so cocky when it’s even numbers?”

Lily could almost see Sirius’ hackles rising as Snape joined the fray, his distinctive tones completely unmistakable.

“Even with even numbers I’d beat your arse, _Snivellus,_ ” Sirius threatened, a look of pure hatred on his handsome face.

“Go on then,” Snape said, his voice suddenly quieter, more menacing. His gaze flickered to Lily for a second, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. _Don’t do it, Sev,_ she silently urged him.

“It’s fine,” Izza said, louder. Her voice was cold, authoritative; you couldn’t help but obey when she put that tone on. “Everyone back off _now_.”

“You should listen to your girlfriend, Black,” Snape sneered. “It’s pretty clear she’s got you by ball and chain.” Snape emphasised the word ‘chain,’ and Lily frowned in confusion as Black bristled with anger.

“I wouldn’t mind her having _me_ by ball and chain,” Rosier put in, winking at Izza, who glared back at him with a look that could melt the polar caps.   

“Oh, shut up, Evan,” Avery said coldly, his wand still carefully aimed at Sirius’ heart.

“Mm,” Snape agreed, his lip curling maliciously. “Why on earth you’d want anything to do with the school broom is beyond me.”

With that, Sirius snapped. Insults to him, he could handle. But when Snape brought Izza into the slander… well that was just too far. He lashed out before the Slytherins could realise what he’d done; Snape was blasted back several feet; seconds later, hexes were flying from both sides. Their audience began to disperse, shrieking and ducking for cover.

“ _Incarcerous,”_ Sirius cried. Snape deflected the spell with a last minute Shield Charm.

“ _Sectumsempra!_ _”_ the Slytherin responded, his face purple with rage and a vein throbbing on his forehead. Sirius blinked in confusion - he didn’t recognise the spell. It was a wild shot, though, and it missed Sirius, grazing past Izza’s leg.

“ _ENOUGH!_ _”_ Professor Buchanan had finally realised what was happening and had arrived to end the fight. “Professor Flitwick, escort the Slytherins from the Hall. Gryffindors, follow me.” Professor Buchanan led them into the antechamber off the Great Hall. Violet, the portrait, eyed them with interest as they entered.

“What, in Merlin’s name, was that spell Snivellus tried to use on me?” Sirius murmured to Izza, who was gazing at the side her of her skirt, which had been caught by the spell. It was in tatters. She shrugged in response, but Sirius spied the upset look on her face as she touched the shredded side of her skirt. “Come here,” he murmured, pulling her close and hugging her. He could feel a warm wetness as blood from her cut cheek seeped through the material of his clothes.

Professor Buchanan ran a hand through his blonde hair and turned to them. “Do any of you care to explain that… _horrific_ display?”

James glanced around at his classmates  Sirius was still clutching Izza, Marlene and Mary were hanging back, nervous, and Peter and Remus flanked Lily protectively - before stepping forward. “Professor, perhaps I can?”

“I certainly hope so, Mr Potter,” Buchanan said angrily.

James went on to explain the accident and the following fight. Professor Buchanan listened in silence. He had always been a very fair sort of teacher, for which James was very glad at that moment. Buchanan considered Izza carefully when James reached the part of the story that required repeating what Snape had insinuated about her. Sirius felt his jaw clench in anger once again, as James told the Professor what had been said. It was such an unfair untruth - boys of all descriptions loved Izza, but she was picky to a fault with who she deigned to go out with. She was an ultimate prize, not some kind of tramp.

“It was all started by them, Professor,” Peter said, in a last ditch attempt to convince him.

“And yet, it was Mr Black who cast the first spell,” Buchanan pointed out, but his brow had softened.

“Yes, but Avery shoved Izza into the floor,” Marlene put in, unexpectedly. She’d never been able to abide unfairness. “Why is physical violence any less provocative than magic? Besides, Sirius wasn’t hexing to hurt Snape; he was only trying to restrain him.”

“Snape, on the other hand, is another matter,” James said passionately, picking up the thread of Marlene’s point. “Look what he tried to do to Sirius.” James strode over to Izza and plucked at the shredded side of her skirt. “Imagine if that had made contact with skin?”

Professor Buchanan did look worried by this. “You need the Hospital Wing, Miss Moldovan,” he said when Izza looked up. He sighed heavily and continued. “I understand the provocation behind this fight. But the fact remains that it was unacceptable. I certainly expect better from you, Mr Potter, as our Head Boy. I’m going to take fifteen points from Gryffindor, each, and give you all three days detention. Report to my office on Monday at eight o’clock. Now, go get that cut looked at,” he said to Izza.

The Gryffindors filed out of the room quietly. Sirius and Izza headed in the direction of the Hospital Wing and the others went back to the common room.

“Snivellus had no right to say that about you,” Sirius said in quiet, hard voice as he and Izza walked.

Izza was looking at her feet. “Yeah, well, since when has that ever stopped him? Loathsome worm.”

Sirius was still seething; the idea that Izza was anything like what Snape had suggested was simply preposterous. Yes, Izza liked boys, and boys loved Izza, but she was hardly _easy_. Sirius could count on one hand the number of serious boyfriends Izza had had, and the number of boys she’d been with in a casual way was not any more.

“Just forget about it, Sirius,” Izza said softly, as they approached the doors of the Hospital Wing. She touched his face, were the muscle working in his jaw was giving away his continued anger. “One day, they’re going to get what they deserve.”

* * *

 

Their looming detentions meant that the new week started with a shadow across it. Breakfast on Monday morning was a reasonably quiet affair. Madame Pomfrey had healed Izza’s cheek easily, but she was unusually silent, even for her, and Lily wondered if it had something to do with letter Izza had quickly (but not quite quickly enough) hidden from her sight the night before. Guilt coloured her cheeks whenever this thought crossed her mind - Izza went to great lengths to keep from Lily what she had already read.

In fact, everyone seemed a little off. Remus, in particular, looked ill; there were dark shadows beneath his eyes, which looked overly large in his colourless face and he picked at his food without intention. James stared into his cereal as though he might like to place his face in it until he drowned, and Sirius spent most of breakfast looking silently between Remus and Izza; both were ignoring their virtually untouched plates, though Remus at least was pretending to pick at it by pushing food around his plate. 

Only Peter seemed cheerful. He had always been a morning person, and his best method for cheering his friends up was to pretend nothing was wrong. “Guess what Saturday is?” he said excitedly, to James and Sirius.

“First Quidditch game of the season,” James answered quickly - a little _too_ quickly. Lily looked up at him carefully.

“And the Cup will be Gryffindor’s once again,” Sirius added smoothly. He was a Beater.

“Damn straight it will,” James said, finally managing a smile. “I do not plan to lose out to anyone in my last year.”

Izza, who apparently hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the exchange, was staring at the cloudy ceiling. “I hope the weather fines up,” she mused. “It’s only October. It’s not supposed to look this miserable outside.”

Lily smiled. Izza had always been strange about the weather - if the weather didn’t suit the season, she always seemed to think something bad was bound to occur. Lily sometimes wondered if it was superstition - after all, Izza had spent the first seven years of her life; often the most influential years - being raised, sheltered from the world, on a large property on the fringe of a small town, nestled deep in the Carpathian Mountains. Over the years, Izza had let some things slip; once she had mentioned the villagers chaining protective amulets to the trees on the edge of the woods to ward off eldritch forces with less than innocent intentions.

Lily’s smile faltered and dropped to a frown. Of course, if Izza ever talked to her, or any of them about her childhood, she would know the exact reason why. But she didn’t, because Izza lived within the walls of her own secrets.

She was interrupted from her musings on this subject by the approach of a tall, attractive Ravenclaw. Sean von Bertouch had light brown, wavy hair, and hazel eyes that were fringed with the kind of lashes most girls would kill for. Those pretty eyes were fixed firmly on Izza.

Lily saw Sirius roll his eyes from the corner of her own eye - there was no love lost between the two, not since an unfortunate incident in Greenhouse Four back in second year. Plus, Lily was pretty sure that Sirius just didn’t like Izza seeing him. Then again, none of the Marauders really liked Sean, though they controlled themselves for the most part; Lily was pretty sure this was because they were afraid of crossing Izza, whose temper, though hard to provoke, was the stuff of legend once kindled.

For his part, Sean didn’t even spare the boys a hello. In fact, not even Izza got a proper greeting. “Izza, love, want to do something on Saturday night?” he asked, with the air of someone who is never refused.

“No, thanks,” Izza said conversationally, as if he’d asked about the weather.

“Suit yourself,” von Bertouch sniffed, and that was that.

Sirius watched his retreating form. “I still don’t understand what you see in that tosser,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Izza pressed her lips together. “I don’t see anything in him. He just happens to be a good kisser.”

Remus appeared to choke slightly on the sip of pumpkin juice he had just taken. “Good to know,” he said, with a wry lift of his brow.

“I thought you’d appreciate the information, Moony,” Izza said, and Lily couldn’t help but be pleased to see her humour pushing through the earlier glumness.

“Oh, I do,” he assured her.

Sirius muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Well, _I_ don’t.” Izza wasn’t paying him any attention, though, and missed it completely.

After breakfast, the group parted for their respective classes and went about their day as normal. At ten to eight in the evening, they met outside Professor Buchanan’s office for their detention and at eight o’clock exactly, Buchanan opened the door and ushered them in.

“Potter, McKinnon and Evans, you three will be helping Mr Filch clean the fourth floor toilets,” Buchanan began, very businesslike. “Black, Pettigrew and Moldovan, you will be weeding the school vegetable patch, by hand. No magic. Hagrid will oversee you for that. Lupin and MacDonald, you two will be reorganising my filing cabinet, by hand, of course.” Buchanan cast a thoughtful glance at his filing cabinet. “I’ve been meaning to alphabetise it for months.”

The group then split for their respective punishments. James complained under his breath the whole way up to the fourth floor that he’d been cheated and that his mates had got off easy. He seemed to cheer up when he remembered that he and Lily were sharing detention, at which point she cheerfully reminded him that time spent in his company was punishment enough without having to clean toilets as well. 

They worked in silence; Filch spent most of his time breathing down their necks, ensuring they were cleaning and not slacking.

After a few hours, when Filch had left the bathroom, James threw down his scrubbing brush and wiped his forehead. “Can’t wait for Sunday,” he muttered, without thinking.

“What’s Sunday?” Lily asked, frowning in confusion.

James paused for only a fraction of a second, but Lily caught it, nonetheless. “Uh, the day after our first Quidditch win of the season.” He laughed, a little too cheerfully; even Marlene looked at him questioningly.

Lily had a feeling that the boys were hiding something. She had had this feeling often over the past few years, but, as she returned to her work, she assumed it was just some dumb prank they were planning to pull on Sunday night. Their odd behaviour could usually be attributed to their causing mischief of some description.

“I’m glad Izza sent von Bertouch on his way this morning,” James said, abruptly changing the subject. “Sirius doesn’t really have much time for the likes of him these days.”

“What do you mean?” Lily frowned. “It’s hardly any of Blacks’ business who Izza sees.”

James seemed to realise that he probably hadn’t picked the best subject for a conversation change. He shrugged and lowered his voice, so Marlene, who had moved to clean the sinks, couldn’t hear. “He’s had a tough time lately. I know you’re not his biggest fan, and I know you don’t like me, but Lily, I’d really appreciate it if you could cut him a little slack this year.”

Lily looked down at her scrubbing brush. James had never asked her for anything in such a serious, heartfelt manner - not even a date.

He hadn’t finished, either. “And Lily, if it feels like he’s monopolising Izza, could you just indulge him? If she’s what he needs to feel better, then so be it. You know that no one makes him feel better, makes _anyone_ feel better, for that matter, the way she does.” It was true; Izza had a way of focusing on people that made them feel like the most important person in the world. When she gave you her full attention, you felt like she was absorbing everything bad you were experiencing and absolving you of it. And it was hard to feel angry, or upset or panicked when her husky, accented voice was soothingly telling you things would be okay.

“But why?” Lily asked, unable to stop the wave of curiosity she felt. “What is so tough about being the perfect Sirius Black, most handsome and talented man alive - just ask him.” Lily snorted derisively as she finished her sentence.

James actually looked kind of angry at her, and his knuckles whitened around his scrubber. “It’s not my story to tell,” James said, somewhat more savagely than he intended. He got very protective over Sirius, and even more so since that summer. “Tell me you’ll be nicer to him,” he demanded.

“Okay, alright,” Lily murmured, taken aback. Maybe she didn’t know why Potter was being so _weird,_ but she could understand the request to share Izza with Black. Izza had always had something about her, a certain influence, and Black had always been somewhat taken by that.

It was all rather intriguing, Lily thought as she turned back to scrubbing. Sirius Black was different this year; Potter had just said so himself. Potter was different, too, or, perhaps, this side of him was just one she’d never seen before. His shoulders were still tense as he too kept cleaning; he was still annoyed with her for prying. Plus, there was that thing the four boys were clearly hiding - she wanted to know what it was. More than anything else, she wanted to know _why_ things were different. What had changed?

* * *

 

Saturday morning dawned bright and mild. There was a light breeze - perfect weather for Quidditch, James announced excitedly at breakfast. This was the most animated Lily had seen him in weeks. The air of excitement at breakfast was tangible, and the whole school seemed to be abuzz, high on the fact that Quidditch was back for another year. Almost all breakfast conversation, at every table, revolved around the match or the respective championship chances of each house. Quidditch had never particularly excited Lily, though she did enjoy watching it, but this year, something felt different. She was anticipating the match just as eagerly as everyone else - maybe because this was her last year to be a part of Gryffindor, and feel that sense of camaraderie and atmosphere that sports created.

Gryffindor’s first opponent of the new school year was Hufflepuff. James, the Gryffindor Captain, had been analysing the other team for weeks; Gryffindor played an extremely offensive brand of Quidditch, while the Hufflepuffs were very defensive, and he had been determined to cover every possible angle of the game. His drive was formidable; no one was going to take that Quidditch Cup from him and his team, if he had anything to say about it.

At ten-thirty, everyone began to make their move, streaming out of the castle and down to the Quidditch pitch, filling up the stadium to capacity. James split from them and led his team down to the change rooms, while Lily followed Izza up into the stands. Izza waved her Gryffindor flag as she sat down. 

The teams eventually re-emerged, and the game was soon underway. Izza and Remus and Peter were right into the game, as usual, while Lily was content to watch sedately and cheer at the appropriate times. She often wondered why Izza had never tried out for Quidditch - usually, she loved anything that was fast and dangerous. For some reason, though, Izza preferred to watch. Lily, on the other hand, liked flying, though she wasn’t keen on some of the more gut-wrenching moves that Quidditch players seemed to love. She would much rather a sedate Sunday joy ride, without the stress of competition or the danger of a Bludger hitting you in the face.

James and his Chasers were scoring reasonably easily, thanks to their Beaters. Sirius and his fellow beater, Todd Sanders, seemed to be wherever the Bludgers were, and took great pleasure in belting the heavy black balls into the paths of the Hufflepuff players.

“Todd and Sirius are on fire! I don’t think they’ve missed a target yet!” Remus shouted over the noise of the crowd.

“Mm, Sirius must have spotted a pretty girl in the crowd,” Izza joked dryly. “Nothing makes him play better than a girl to show off for.”

It soon became clear that Gryffindor’s dominance of the last few years was to be continued. Hufflepuff were a good team, but Gryffindor were on a different level entirely. James had built such a kinship within his team that they were unbreakable - they were all good mates playing for each other, and they knew each other so well that each play and strategy seemed to be second nature. Most of the team had been playing together for years, so they were comfortably familiar with each other’s games, and seemed to know what each other planned to do almost before it was done.

In the end, Gryffindor won comfortably 470 - 160. Lily cheered with all the others as the Gryffindor team hit the ground, their Seeker holding the Snitch tightly.

“And now for the best part of Quidditch,” Peter said excitedly, waving his Gryffindor pennant and jumping up and down.

Mary leaned forward, looking around Marlene and Remus in confusion. “What’s that?” she asked.

“A victory party, of course,” Izza laughed, standing.

Lily rolled her eyes. She liked a good party as much as the next person, and the Gryffindor’s were infamous for theirs, particularly after a good win. This would be her first as Head Girl though, and she wasn’t looking forward to being the person who was expected to be responsible. On a slightly more worrying note, she could see a steely glint in Izza’s eyes that meant she’d be an absolute handful later in the night.

* * *

 

Lily had been right, of course; Izza was in fine form, and it was a fascinating, terrifying thing to see. Lily was sitting with Marlene and Mary, keeping one eye on Izza as they talked. Izza was dancing with complete abandon. She was on her own, though that never bothered her, and people revolved around her, captivated. Boys watched her with that hungry look she always seemed to invoke and Lily kept losing sight of her as the dancing crowd swelled and moved around her.

“I feel like dancing,” Marlene said, jiggling her knee up and down.

Lily nodded her agreement. There was music throbbing from a magically enhanced stereo, and it was infectious, beckoning them to the makeshift dance floor created by pushing all the common room armchairs to the sides of the room. Lily had to laugh at the sight of Potter and Black and Remus and Peter doing some sort of circular war dance, managing to keep time with the music.

“Let’s go, then,” she said, grabbing Marlene’s hand and pulling her upright.

They joined Izza, who smiled a thousand-watt smile at the sight of them, and pulled them into the throng. Lily could virtually feel the beat singing through her veins, and she mirrored Izza’s moves. She could feel eyes on her, and she let out an exhilarated laugh - sometimes she was aware of how inelegant she could look next to Izza, but at times like this, when Izza lit up, Lily felt alight too. She felt like she looked good.

The Marauders happened to be dancing under the clock that hung on the wall, and, as Lily glanced over her shoulder at the time, James Potter looked up at her, a wicked smile on his lips; a smile that made his hazel eyes dance. It was such an infectious sort of grin that Lily felt an answering smile form on her lips before she could stop herself. Moments later, James tapped Black on the shoulder, and then the four boys were heading in her direction, weaving through the dancing bodies between them.   

Marlene and Mary grabbed Peter and Remus, drawing them in to dance. Izza had stopped long enough to see what was happening, though her hips were still moving slightly.

“Want to dance, Iz?” Sirius asked, his fingertips resting on her hips as he pulled her towards him. Izza leaned in and whispered something in his ear. He laughed and nodded, straightening up and rearranging his hold on Izza to one that was far more formal. As Lily watched they twirled away, laughing. She smiled and wished she could be that effortless.

“That’s an old wizard dance,” James told her, watching the pair. His gaze slipped to her and Lily was surprised to note he suddenly seemed a little… shy. She laughed at herself - Potter, shy? How ridiculous.

“Do you want to dance, Lily?” James asked her, his eyes following her hand as she plucked a drink off the tray that floated conveniently past her elbow.

Lily choked a little bit on her drink. “Why, James, this is a very different approach. No embarrassing stunts tonight?” she said amusedly, pushing her hair back off her shoulders.

James took a step closer and Lily was suddenly hyper-aware of her personal space and how much he was _in_ it. “This is no plot, Lily,” he murmured. “Just a question.”

At that point, Lily became very aware of Remus and Marlene staring at them. Forcing a giggle, she shoved James in the chest and tried to fight the blush that was blossoming on her cheeks. “I think I’ll pass,” she said, embarrassed at the pitch of her voice.

She made a break for the chairs by the fireplace. When Izza and Sirius whirled past her, she grabbed blindly at Izza’s elbow, trying to attract her attention. The change in momentum sent them all spilling backwards.

“Merlin, Lily,” Izza groaned, pushing Sirius’ weight off of her. He made a funny noise as Izza’s finger dug into his ribs. “You couldn’t have shouted my name or something?”

Lily was patting her own ribs, making sure they were all still in the right place. “Sorry. I really needed to talk to you.” It seemed silly, now that she had Izza’s attention, to make such a big deal out of another of James Potter’s attempts to hit on her - but he was being so _weird,_ she thought again in frustration.  

Izza opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

“Well, this does look interesting.” The voice belonged to Sean von Bertouch; he was looking down at them sprawled on the floor, his usual supremely confident expression fixed firmly in place.

“Fantastic,” Sirius muttered, getting up and helping Izza and Lily to their feet. “Just great,” he said disgustedly. Lily looked around, her eyes meeting Sean’s. He winked. He was, as Sirius often put it, Izza’s ‘toyfriend’; the guy she kept around when she needed someone to distract her, someone with no strings attached.

“This is a Gryffindor party, Sean,” Izza said, brushing herself down. “How did you even get in here?” Lily recognised the expression that was forming on Izza’s face - she was slipping into what Lily had long dubbed ‘femme fatale’ mode, which she reserved mostly for boys she wasn’t interested in friendship with and rather more with getting what she wanted. This particular mood of Izza’s was extremely dangerous; either she’d draw von Bertouch into her web and use him mercilessly - clearly what he wanted - or she’d turn on him, as mercurial in her disdain as she was in releasing her affections.

“And I’ll be damned if I’m not going to help my favourite Gryffindor girl celebrate,” Sean was saying, gracing Izza with his most charming smile. One hand reached up to ruffle his light, curly hair, and the other was grasping at the front of Izza’s blouse. He tugged her toward him and she smiled demurely, resting her hands on his forearms. She seemed to have decided to play along for a little while, her interest piqued. Lily glanced at Sirius, who rolled his eyes.

Izza looked over her shoulder, catching Sirius’ eye. “I owe you a dance,” she promised, as Sean moved to whisk her away.

Sirius shook his head, as though he couldn’t believe what he’d seen. “I really worry about her, sometimes,” he said quietly to Lily, watching as Sean pressed Izza’s hips to his.

“Me too,” Lily said in an undertone.  

Suddenly Sirius straightened up, a mesmerising grin forming on his lips. “Oh, brilliant,” he muttered to himself, taking off into the crowd without warning. Lily followed him, without knowing why she was doing so.

She stopped when she reached Marlene, Remus, Peter and Mary. Sirius had sailed by them without a glance their way, which had caught their attention and stopped their dancing. They all watched as he grasped the elbow of a petite, blonde-haired girl and dragged her back in their direction. Lily felt sorry for the poor girl - she looked as though her heart was about to give out. With a jolt of surprise, Lily realised she was a Ravenclaw too - Lily would have to change the tower password tomorrow.

Lily looked up as James appeared at her side, a similar smile to Sirius’ appearing on his face. “Anna!” he said happily, if not a little surprised-ly. He stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek, and her look of confusion changed to one of pleasure, colour coming to her face and a dimple appearing next to her smile.

“Hi,” she said brightly. She was pretty, in a delicate sort of way.

“I didn’t think you’d come. Considering my team beat your team.” James couldn’t help the note of arrogance that crept into his voice.

Anna shrugged. “I’m not big into one-eyed rivalries.”

Sirius gave Anna a gentle push, so she was closer to James. “Go on,” he said cheerfully. “We wouldn’t want to interrupt your date.”

Lily felt a little stab of something unknown in her gut. She’d known Anna and James had organised a date - Mary had told her, incredulously - so she didn’t understand why she felt so surprised. She shook herself. He could hardly wait around forever, of course. And he would wait forever, when it came to Lily, because she’d _never_ date him.

Lily stood on her tiptoes and scanned the room.

“Over there,” Remus’ voice said from behind her, and he touched her shoulder gently, pointing her in the right direction. Sure enough, Izza was there, by the stairs to the boys’ dorm. Her back was against the wall, and she was pressing teasing kisses to Sean’s lips every time he went in for a proper kiss. “Do me a favour, and make sure Sirius doesn’t see.” Remus smiled sadly, as though he knew something Lily didn’t. Lily noticed vaguely that he looked _ill._ “I don’t think von Bertouch will get away unscathed if Sirius finds him trying that in his ‘territory’.”

Lily rolled her eyes. Damn alpha males and their damn egos.

“I need another drink,” she muttered.


	4. Chapter Three: Oh Brother, Where Have Thou Been?

_ CHAPTER THREE: OH BROTHER, WHERE HAVE THOU BEEN? _

* * *

 

**Glossary of Names and Phrases:**

Kes: Kess (pronounced to rhyme with _mess)_

Unde ai fost: Where have you been?

Nu aici, iti voi spune mai tarziu: Not now, I’ll tell you later.

Ce doresti: What do you want?

* * *

 

The week following the Quidditch match and the after party passed without incident, much to Lily’s relief. Everything seemed relatively normal; their teachers piled homework on them relentlessly, as if they didn’t have more important things to do. Slytherin narrowly defeated Ravenclaw in the second Quidditch match of the season, and relief from homework came in the form of a Hogsmeade day being announced for the following weekend. 

Lily, Izza, Marlene and Mary took their time with breakfast on the Saturday morning of Hogsmeade. The initial irrepressible excitement of Hogsmeade visits was reserved only for the third years, and perhaps some fourth years; students like Lily and her friends were too old and too sophisticated to scarf down breakfast and be out the gates by 7:30 AM.

“Are you meeting up with Sean today?” Lily asked Izza, who was buttering a croissant in a very deliberate manner.

The derisive look on Izza’s face said it all. “Uh, no. I’m not spending a whole day with him - then I might actually have to make conversation with him.”

“And no one wants that,” Marlene joked.

“Exactly,” Izza scoffed, waving her knife at Marlene. “All his conversations go the same way. ‘I’m so fabulous, Izza, don’t you agree? I’m so wonderful. Could you repeat that babe, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my own awesome,’ - you get the point.” Izza’s impersonation of Sean’s voice was scarily good, even if the content was a little exaggerated.

Mary and Marlene were beside themselves with laughter. Lily just raised her brows. “Why do you string him along, then?” she asked, fixing her best friend with a disapproving stare.

“We’ve been over this, Evans.” Izza rolled her eyes. “His mouth is very impressive when it’s _not_ being used to form words.”

“It is way too early in the morning to be talking about von Bertouch,” Sirius interrupted, stealing Izza’s croissant and sitting down. He was soon followed by his three fellow Marauders, who laughed when Izza smacked Sirius upside the head and reclaimed her croissant.

“You don’t have to sit with us,” Lily pointed out sweetly. “Then our conversations wouldn’t displease you.”

“Yes, but your passive-aggressive disdain for us is so entertaining,” Sirius replied, equally saccharine.

“Cease fire,” Remus said, flinging an arm between the two and cutting Lily off as she went to retort. “We just need to feed Sirius, and then we’ll be on our way,” he told Lily, patting her hand comfortingly. “He gets cranky when he’s hungry.”

Sirius looked wounded. “Remus, mate, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“You make it awfully difficult sometimes, Pads,” James joked.

After breakfast, the eight split into their respective foursomes and went their separate ways. The boys were heading straight down to Hogsmeade for some ‘lad time’ before James went to meet Anna Braith for another date. ‘Lad time’ made Lily nervous - their idea of male bonding usually included blowing things up together or creating a general havoc to rival that of what Peeves could make. 

The girls made their way slowly down the lawn, enjoying the crisp morning air. Lily had a great feeling about the day. She didn’t know why, but the sun was shining, and she just felt good. Izza seemed in a pleasant mood, too, and Lily had long since learned that Izza’s mood was a good indication of how people around her felt. She had that sort of effect on people; when she was all sunshine, so was everyone else. When she was storm clouds and thunder, people ran for the hills.

Mary and Marlene were laughing about something that Lily hadn’t quite caught, and Izza had bounded ahead, her long legs carrying further, faster. Her mass of dark hair streamed behind her and Mary slowed her stride, to link her arm with Lily’s. It was the kind of flawless moment that Lily was starting to hold onto tighter these days, as they seemed few and far between. It was a moment of perfection before all the fears of war and instability flooded back. 

After wandering the shops for a while, the weather started to cool and the four girls decided to head towards the Three Broomsticks for a warm Butterbeer. Marlene led them through the door and made a beeline for one of the few empty tables, near the window. As they settled down, shaking off jackets and scarves, Mary raised an impressed brow in the direction of the bar.

“God _damn_ ,” she said emphatically, “That is a lovely specimen of man.”

The others turned to look at the man who had his back to them and was leaning over the bar. He was wearing Muggle clothes with unusual style for a wizard; tight blue jeans and a luxurious black leather jacket. They couldn’t see his face, but it was clear he had Madam Rosmerta all aflutter - which usually only happened when Black and Potter flirted with her.

“Agreed,” Lily nodded, laughing. Whoever he was, he was tall and strapping, with broad shoulders beneath his jacket. Izza just looked at the man’s back, frowning slightly.

Suddenly, as though he had hear their discussion, the stranger turned around and Marlene, Mary and Lily looked away instantly, embarrassed to have been caught staring. The scraping of Izza’s chair as she stood and a sudden shriek startled Lily.

“Kes?” Izza said, and the thrill in her voice was audible. The girls whipped around at the sound Izza’s brother’s name - none of them had ever met him, or even seen a picture of him, but sweet Merlin, he was _gorgeous_. He’d been ahead of them at school yes, but he’d been in Ravenclaw and Izza had never introduced them. The man who was Kes smiled and Lily felt like smiling too, it was so infectious.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Mary muttered, as Izza ran to her brother and threw herself at him. He caught her and lifted her up, twirling on the spot. “Where has she been hiding _him?!”_

Mary, a classic flirt if ever there was one, was still blatantly checking Kes out. Izza and her brother were speaking to each other in rapid-fire Romanian, their words running over each other as they tried to speak at the same time. Mary looked at Lily in confusion.

“Are they always like that?” she asked and Lily shrugged, smiling. Sometimes it was frustrating having a friend whose first language was not English - Izza sometimes had a tendency to speak her mother tongue whenever she felt like it (especially under her breath, when she was angry) and, aside from the couple of very basic words that Izza had taught her over the years, Lily had no idea what she was saying.

Izza led Kes over to the table, still talking at him without drawing breath. She was like a different person when Kes was around, Lily thought in surprise. A little more open, a little happier and a little more like Kes himself. Even her accent, which was usually slight, but still there, as if she used conscious effort to articulate her words in English fully, was thicker when she was with her brother.

“Lily,” Kes said, by way of greeting, kissing her on the cheek. “I’ve heard so much about you.” He touched her red hair softly.

“Hey, Kes, it’s good to finally meet you,” Lily said warmly. Izza described Kes as the best parts of her - warm, kind, affectionate - except with none of her flaws. All humans had flaws of course, but if the older Moldovan had any, they certainly had nothing to do with his looks. Except for maybe the scar that nearly perfectly bisected his left eyebrow - but Lily found that roguish and charming, not off-putting.

Izza went to find a spare chair and Kes held Lily’s gaze for a moment. When a Moldovan looked you directly in the eye, it was magnetic - you didn’t want to look away, you _couldn’_ _t_ look away, but at the same time, it was like trying to look at the heart of a wildfire; it was that intense. Lily looked down nervously. She wondered if Kes could see right through her, right through to that little seed of guilt that had been planted right after she had read his letter.

Kes’ focus was broken when his sister returned with another chair, and Lily could breathe normally again.

“You’ve met Lily and this is Marlene,” Izza said, sitting next to Kes. “And my other friend, Mary.” Both girls were staring at Kes as though he’d walked straight out of their wildest fantasies and into the Three Broomsticks.

“Nice to meet you,” Kes said, with a charming smile that showed off straight, white teeth. He offered a hand for Mary to shake.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Mary laughed breathlessly, winking at him and shaking his hand. “Iz, I didn’t realise that your brother was so delicious.”

Kes laughed, and the corners of Izza’s mouth turned up ever so slightly. That was typical Mary - straight to the point, that person who spoke without thinking and without a filter.

Kes said something to Izza in Romanian, and she nodded, her smirk widening. Kes grinned and ran a hand through his hair, surveying the girls who were waiting to see if the siblings would let them in on the joke. As Lily looked at Kes and Izza side by side for the first time, Lily was struck by how alike the siblings were, especially in looks. Kes was as handsome as Izza was beautiful. Piecing together the few things that Izza shared over the years, Lily had gathered that the two looked a lot like their father and very little like their mother, which, according to Izza, pleased their grandparents to no end. Lily had seen one picture of Izza’s mother, mostly by accident back in their third year, and she had those classic Swedish looks - blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Both Kes and Izza had their father’s dark hair, and their features were very similar - the same high cheekbones and even the same-shaped mouth, though Kes’ lips were a little thinner and not so feminine. The most striking difference between them was their eyes. Kes had inherited his mother’s sky blue eyes, it seemed. Lily wondered briefly if Kes liked that link to his mother and if Izza was ever jealous that she bore no mark of the woman.

“So, Kes, Izza says it’s been a while,” Marlene said. “What have you been up to?”

Kes glanced at Izza briefly, almost guiltily. “I’ve been abroad.”

If typical Mary was to speak without thinking, typical Moldovan was to censor relentlessly. Getting personal information from Izza - and, it seemed, Kes too - was like trying to draw blood from stone.

“Unde ai fost?” Izza said sharply. Kes looked her in the eye and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Nu aici, iti voi spune mai tarziu, Isidora,” Kes said quietly, reaching over and squeezing her hand gently.

Lily looked at Marlene and Mary - they looked just as confused as she did. Izza and Kes continued to converse in quiet Romanian and the girls looked away, all feeling like they were intruding on something private.

“Who’s that?” Marlene suddenly asked, her gaze drawn by something in the direction of the bar.

Lily followed her line of sight until her eyes fell upon a man at the bar. He was tall and darkly handsome, but there was something dangerous, something menacing, about him. He was looking at Izza and Kes, but as Lily stared, his gaze suddenly shifted to her and his eyes were a shocking shade of green. She looked away immediately, quailing under his gaze.

“No idea,” Lily murmured, keeping her eyes down as the stranger left his glass on the bar and left the Three Broomsticks. Neither Lily nor Marlene had to say it, but they were both thinking it; that man gave them cold chills.

* * *

 

“What’s wrong with you, Moony?” Sirius asked, nudging Remus with his shoulder. They were meandering their way toward the Three Broomsticks after leaving James with Anna Braith at Madame Puddifoot’s - there was only so much pink that Sirius’ poor eyes could handle. Remus though, was looking at the ground as he walked, his brows pulled together in a contemplative frown. He seemed bothered by something.

“Don’t you feel well?” Peter asked, concerned. “I thought -” he glanced around, to make sure they were out of earshot of anyone else, “- _that_ time of the month was still three weeks away.”

Remus shot him a wry smile. “It is. I don’t know,” he sighed, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “I’ve just got a weird feeling. You know, that gut feeling that something’s up?” 

Sirius laughed and paused in the doorway of the pub to allow a dark haired man out the door first. “I thought you gave up Divination, Moony? Next you’ll be telling me I’m going to die because my tea leaves keep winding up in a particularly interesting blob.”

“Ha, ha,” Remus said sarcastically, pushing Sirius, who was still laughing, forwards. “Your wit amazes me sometimes, Padfoot.”

“Better wit than freaky werewolf powers,” Sirius teased, in an undertone.

Peter saved Remus from retorting further, by pointing out that the girls were seated at a table across the room. They were all hanging raptly on every word spoken by a man with thick, dark hair. He had his arm slung casually over the back of Izza’s chair, and his long legs were sprawled elegantly beneath the table.

“Who’s the bloke?” Remus asked curiously. The guy was sitting in between Izza and Lily, and none of them had ever seen Lily look so taken with anyone. Izza was speaking, using her hands to accompany whatever she was saying, and it was making her audience at the table laugh. The boys could only see the back of the strangers’ head, but his broad, strong shoulders contracted as he leaned in to murmur in Izza’s ear.

Sirius shrugged when Remus and Peter looked to him for answers. “How am I supposed to know?” He rolled his eyes and made a beeline for the table.

Izza spotted him first, and that heart-stopping smile of hers, the one that made Sirius’ gut twist, and his heart beat a little faster appeared on her lips.

“Sirius,” she said excitedly, standing up. She grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the table, beckoning the other boys to follow too.

The stranger she had been talking to stood up and turned around to face Sirius, as Izza dragged him over. The two men were virtually even in terms of height, and, like true alpha males, they looked each other up and down slowly, sizing each other up.

“Sirius,” Izza repeated. She hadn’t let go of his hand and now she squeezed it ecstatically with both her hands. “This is my brother, Kes.”

Kes stared at Sirius for another moment, before offering him an easy smile and his hand. Sirius shook it when Izza finally let it go of his own hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Kes said. “Forgive me if I don’t trust her completely in her judgements.”

“What does that mean?” Sirius asked, challenging.

Kes smiled knowingly, eyeing Sirius again before looking down at his sister. “She says that you are genuine and good and honorable - I will judge that for myself, if you don’t mind. She is my baby sister, after all.”

Izza rolled her eyes. “Ignore him,” she said to Sirius, slapping her brother lightly on the chest. “He’s protective.”

Sirius winked at her and smiled his most charming smile. He didn’t understand how he’d missed the resemblance between Kes and Izza initially. He stood aside to let Remus and Peter introduce themselves. Izza stood on her toes, hands on Sirius’ shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “He likes you.”

Sirius glanced at her, then at her brother. “You reckon?” he asked doubtfully. “I rather think he hates me.”

Izza shook her head. “I can tell. Plus, you didn’t panic in front of him. That’s always good.”

Sirius looked at Izza questioningly. “Do many blokes panic in front of him?” He eyed Kes again; Sirius supposed he was tall and strong-looking, with a face that could be considered intimidating when he wasn’t smiling, much like Izza’s.

Izza shrugged nonchalantly. “It has happened. Where’s James?” she asked, craning her neck and looking around.

“With Anna Braith.”

Izza raised a brow. “Well, I’m impressed. The quicker he moves on, the quicker Lily will realise how madly and passionately in love she is with him and then they’ll get married and have enough kids to start their own Quidditch team.” Izza clapped her hands together excitedly - Sirius had hardly seen her so animated, it was nice.

He laughed and watched as Lily, Marlene and Mary went to the bar together to get more drinks for everyone, Mary casting admiring looks at the older Moldovan over her shoulder. “Really?” he asked, turning back to Izza. “It’ll happen, just like that?”

Izza shot him a wry half-smile. “No, I don’t think so. But it would be nice for my girl to have a little romance in her life - even if she doesn’t yet realise she likes him.”

“You don’t like ‘romance,’” Sirius pointed out.

She laughed. “Yeah, I know. But Lily does. I’m allowed to want her to have the romance she talks about...and tease her about it too.”

Sirius nudged her with his elbow and smiled in a mock-condescending manner. “Aw,” he cooed, “Look who’s getting soft in her old age.”

Izza scowled and Sirius nearly laughed - calling Izza, Hogwarts’ own personal ice queen, soft was like calling Severus Snape a shining beacon of personal hygiene. “You’re lucky you’re so damn gorgeous, Sirius Black, or I might be tempted to teach you a lesson,” she threatened, drawing her wand and fingering it lovingly.

“You can teach me a lesson any time you want,” Sirius said cheekily, grabbing her wand hand and slowly pulling her towards his body. “You can even spank me, if you like.”

“Stop it!” Izza giggled, smacking his arm. “Kes would castrate you if he heard you saying things like that to me.” She reached up and pinched his cheek affectionately. “And we wouldn’t want that, now would we? It would be such a crime against humanity, against femininity!” She laid a dramatic hand across her forehead and pretended to swoon. Sirius laughed and shook his head. He liked this side of Izza, and didn’t get to see her in this sort of playful, capricious mood anywhere nearly enough for his liking.

Izza dropped her chin and looked at him through her fringe of dark eyelashes. “Now, Mr Black, if you’ll behave yourself, I’m going to help Lily and the girls with those drinks.”

He watched as she sashayed over to the bar. A smile curled the corners of his mouth when she glanced back over her shoulder at him, that radiant smile of hers in place.

“I’ll never behave!” He called after her, drawing curious looks from patrons at nearby tables.

“Sirius!”

Sirius turned; Remus, Peter and Kes had found some extra chairs and were lounging around the table. Kes gestured at an empty seat with a lazy grace.

“Sit down,” he suggested, pulling the chair next to him out from the table. Sirius took it with a nod of thanks.

Kes rummaged in the pockets of the leather jacket he wore, producing a cigarette, and, with a flick of his wand, lit it. He offered it to Sirius, who shook his head.

“No, thanks.” Sirius didn’t elaborate, because he knew it would seem odd to other people, but he was strictly a bad times smoker. When life sucked in every way, when he felt beat to crap from setbacks and problems and just wanted a release, he would have one smoke from the packet he kept in his trunk for such emergency times.

“So,” Kes began, after taking a long drag. “My sister. You three see her every day, so tell me...is she okay?”

The three Marauders exchanged confused looks. “You’re her brother, though,” Remus said slowly. “She doesn’t share a lot with us, or with anyone. Surely she’d tell you first if she weren’t okay?”

Kes pressed his lips together and glanced over his shoulder. Izza was laughing at something Lily was saying. He sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “She keeps things from me, too; I know she does.”

“Well, she seems pretty good,” Sirius said, looking at his mates for agreement. “She’s seeing some Ravenclaw prat, and you know what she’s like with class work - brilliant without even trying. I think she missed you, though. Where’ve you been at?”

Kes considered Sirius for a while. “Romania,” he sighed eventually, running a hand through his hair and bringing his cigarette to his mouth. “Family issues,” he said dismissively. “It was a quick trip, and I don’t want to worry Isidora with it.”

Sirius was surprised by this revelation - as far as he had been able to tell, there wasn’t much the siblings kept from each other, despite their secrecy policy with the rest of the world. “You’re not going to tell her?” he asked, exchanging meaningful glances with Remus.

“No.” Kes’ tone was firm, and left no room for negotiation. “And none of you will tell her, either.” It wasn’t a question.

Silence fell over the table. Sirius looked over his shoulder at Izza and Kes followed his line of sight.

“Who is that?” Kes asked. He was looking at Sean von Bertouch. Sirius wasn’t sure when the Ravenclaw had come in, but he rolled his eyes at the way von Bertouch leaned into Izza’s ear to whisper something. Sirius took great satisfaction at the look on Izza’s face when she quite obviously told him to get lost, and a quick glance at Kes showed that he too wore an expression of grim satisfaction.

“The Ravenclaw prat,” Sirius said.

Kes looked at von Bertouch with narrowed eyes for a long time, and Sirius wondered why the Ravenclaw couldn’t feel Kes’ burning stare on the back of his head. Finally, Kes stubbed his spent cigarette out in the ashtray on the table, stood up and went up behind Izza. Sirius exchanged amused looks with Remus and Peter, internally applauding, as von Bertouch and Kes met each other’s eyes. They laughed out loud when von Bertouch backed away quickly, as if Kes had burned him.

Eventually, the girls, who had been enjoying a lengthy chat with Madame Rosmerta, returned with a tray full of warm bottles of Butterbeer. The group wiled away a couple of enjoyable hours, talking and joking until eventually, as the sun began to work its way toward the horizon, it was time for the seventh years to leave. They took their time, as Izza and Kes seemed reluctant to say goodbye. The siblings were talking quietly, but intensely, in their mother tongue. Kes’ hand was on Izza’s neck, his expression unfathomable.

Eventually, Izza said “La revedere,” and kissed her brother on both cheeks. Then, after a final wave from the door, she followed her classmates back out onto the high street of Hogsmeade.

Kes watched his sister go with a heavy heart. She was still just a child to him - a seventeen-year-old who had built wall after wall around herself after each blow life had dealt her. He did his best to protect her from the world and, indeed, from their own family. Isidora, however, was very much her own person, with incredible beauty and a temper to match, but with sensitivity buried deep down under her layers of defences, and Kes feared the day when she would graduate Hogwarts and be at the mercy of a cruel world.

As he stared at the door of the Three Broomsticks, a blonde woman dressed entirely in black approached him.

“Ce doresti?” he snapped, sitting down and pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

A dangerous smile curled the corners of the woman’s mouth ever so slightly. “I want to meet her.”

* * *

 

Lily couldn’t quite bring herself to become immersed in dinner conversation that night; she could hear Sirius and James arguing loudly over whether Peter’s shirt was beige (Sirius) or off-white (James) further down the table, and as amusingly trivial as the tiff was, Lily was tired, and the constant noise of the Great Hall was grating on her sensitive nerves. She rather felt like she might be brewing a migraine.  

When the remainders of dinner melted from their golden plates, Lily stood, eager to get back to the Gryffindor tower and up to her warm, comfortable bed. She was pulled back down onto her seat however, by Mary, who indicated up at the High Table, where Professor Dumbledore had also gotten to his feet.

Silence fell quickly as the students realised their Headmaster was waiting to speak and nudged their neighbours, pointing at the teachers’ table. There was an air of tension amongst all the students; in such difficult times, they all expected that Professor Dumbledore would have some sort of bad news for them. There had been several occasions recently, where students had been pulled from class to be told of a disappearance within their family.

“What an excellent meal, as usual,” Dumbledore began, his gaze sweeping the hall, the end of his long, snowy beard still tucked into his belt from dinner. “I’m sure it’s quite obvious to you all that I have something to tell you and, judging by your faces, I should first take the time to assure you that I believe you will enjoy what I have to say.”

There was a collective release of bated breath around the Great Hall and the mood was suddenly a whole lot lighter. A few students started to whisper, but quickly fell silent again, gazing up at the Headmaster expectantly.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon glasses. “For those of you who listen in History of Magic, you will know that in three weeks the wizarding world will celebrate the day which is believed to be the birthday of Aesalon Falco - the very first Animagus - and the anniversary of his first mastery of the transformation.”

At the Gryffindor table, the Marauders exchanged quick glances - such a day had a sweet, secret kind of significance for them.

Dumbledore continued. “After some extensive planning with all of your Professors, we have decided that, this year, we are going to celebrate and educate you all on the lives of some significant witches and wizards throughout history. We believe that every one of us deserve some time to be free of the worries that are defining our world.” Dumbledore clapped his hands together cheerfully. Students were starting to whisper excitedly and even Lily was tempted into a smile - she had the feeling that whatever the Professors had planned would provide wonderful distractions from the darkening outside world.

Dumbledore went on, “So, we have some events planned, which we hope will be both entertaining and educational, and we expect that every student in this room will participate enthusiastically in all that we have planned. In three weeks time, we will have a feast to celebrate Mr Falco’s achievement. This also means that there will be a few changes to our traditional Halloween celebration - tell me, how do you all feel about a costume party?”

The students broke into cheers and the Headmaster smiled. “It is, of course, a party with an educational twist,” Dumbledore said, gesturing for them to quiet down again. “In the spirit of Halloween we want you to come dressed as some of wizarding history’s most dastardly figures - but we would like you to research your characters properly. Your Heads of Houses will be collecting four inches of parchment from all students about their chosen villain, with the best essays in each year level winning points for your House.”

“What else do you reckon they’re planning?” Marlene said, when Dumbledore indicated that he had finished speaking and that they all should return to their business.

“Whatever it is, we’ve got a girl on the inside,” Izza said, giving Lily a significant look.

“And you know what that means?” Lily joked. “When I get given a whole bunch of jobs to help with, I get to delegate.”

Izza pulled a face and Marlene laughed.

“Ooh, the Head Girl strikes back,” Mary teased.   

“You know what it also means?” Izza asked, looking like something was dawning on her.

“What?”

Izza stood up, ready to leave. “You’ll probably have to work _very_ closely with James Potter.” Izza quirked her brow at Lily and flounced away with the triumphant air of someone who’d just dropped a bombshell.

“Oh, joy,” Lily said dryly. Marlene and Mary burst out laughing. “Come on,” she said to them, rolling her eyes.


	5. Chapter Four: There Goes The Neighbourhood

_ CHAPTER FOUR: THERE GOES THE NEIGHBOURHOOD _

As Halloween drew closer, an air of excitement descended over Hogwarts. The students were jumping at the distraction from class work and from the perennially bad news that filtered in from the outside world via the _Daily Prophet_ and other sources, like letters from home. Costumes and character ideas were closely guarded secrets, and it became something of a sport to try and guess who was going as what based on the sorts of props and costumes that were being organised.

Lily found herself caught up in the excitement, unable to resist the atmosphere that was infiltrating every corner of the castle. She had already tried to find out what the other girls were going as, but they had refused to even give her a hint. The Marauders were equally secretive and Lily was counting down the days until Halloween, when everyone’s characters would be revealed.

Dumbledore had been serious when he said it would be educational; night after night, the library was nearly full to bursting with students researching their characters. Madame Pince looked close to having some kind of aneurysm every time a group of students descended on her precious library, looting through the books on Dark wizards and creatures. Any unfortunate students who received detention in the days leading up to Halloween were expected to write a sixteen-inch essay, rather than four, on their chosen person.

Lily had decided to go as history’s most famous sorceress, Morgan le Fay. She was already organised, with a little help from a friend of her father, who owned a great little costume shop in London; as soon as Dumbledore had announced the feast, Lily had sent an owl to her father, requesting his help. She had carefully kept her costume hidden from the girls, disguising it as an old set of robes with a simple charm.

Halloween fell on a Friday, and classes that day seemed to drag on forever. The Marauders spent the time with their heads together, whispering, and were repeatedly warned by various professors to behave themselves and not cause any trouble at the party ‘or else.’ They responded to each of these threats with looks of astonished innocence, which made even Lily laugh. She had no doubt they had something nefarious planned to ‘liven things up.’ They always did - like the time in third year, when they’d decided to end the year with a bang and had charmed a whole bunch of balloons filled with multi-coloured glitter to explode over the heads of the students at the end-of-term feast. It hadn’t seemed so bad, until everyone remembered that glitter sticks to _everything_ and doesn’t come off for weeks, no matter how many times you shower.

By the time classes were finished, the corridors of the castle were virtually deserted as students raced back to their respective houses to begin their transformations into the villains of their choice. The Gryffindor girls had agreed to reveal their costumes to each other at the last minute before going down to the party. Lily had had the first turn in the bathroom and was waiting behind her hangings for the other girls to dress, and was flipping absently through a book about Morgan le Fay. Lily had to admit that, as bad as she was painted in history, le Fay was a fascinating character.

“No peeking!” she heard Mary shriek somewhere in the bedroom, followed by Marlene’s laughter.

* * *

Meanwhile, the boys had given up the secrecy and were busy teasing each other mercilessly about the _interesting_ changes in their appearances.

“That’s a _magnificent_ set of eyebrows, Wormtail,” Sirius said mock-admiringly and Peter pulled a face.

“Says the bloke with the beard down to his belt,” Peter muttered. James grabbed Peter in a friendly headlock.

“Now, now, boys,” Remus interjected, laughing. “James, don’t mess up your hair.”

James’ hand automatically lifted to his head, ready to ruffle his hair back into its usual windswept state. The other three boys fell about with laughter when James’ fingers met with no hair at all - his costume required a huge bald patch, and James had already done the necessary transfiguration.

Sirius was nearly crying with laughter, but he managed to choke out, “Maybe you should leave it like that, Prongs. Then Evans wouldn’t roll her eyes every time your hand goes near your head.”

“You want to say that again?” James demanded, drawing his wand and getting into character. “I’ll hex you into next year!”

Sirius drew his own wand and made a beckoning motion with his hand. “Bring it on, Prongsy.”

“Settle down, boys,” Remus said, once again mediating his high-spirited mates. It would be such a shame if all their work on costumes went to waste.

As if it wasn’t obvious, James was going as Ethelred the Ever-Ready, a wizard famous for taking offence at absolutely nothing and who tended to hex innocent bystanders when his feathers were ruffled. Admittedly, James had done an excellent job getting into character - he was nearly unrecognisable after consuming a temporary potion that had shaved several inches off his height and transfiguring his hairline so that it was considerably receded. When he frowned, he looked even more like a grumpy old man. Sirius had joked that it was a look into the future, which had earned him a punch to the bicep that had left his arm feeling dead for several minutes after.  

Sirius was impersonating Rasputin. While the man was famous among Muggles, they remained completely oblivious to the fact that the man who most thought responsible for the downfall of a royal dynasty was a practitioner of Dark magic. His fellow Marauders were rather impressed by the lengths to which he had gone - Sirius’ previously tall, athletic frame had been reduced to a thin, weedy physique, and his handsome face was hidden by the beard Peter had mentioned. He kept shouting the occasional random word in Russian; his vocabulary was limited to the three or four words Izza, who was fluent in the language, had taught him.

Peter’s magnificent eyebrows were part of his costume, of course; he was going as Herpo the Foul, the creator of the first Basilisk - everyone could agree this wasn’t exactly a favour to the world, by any stretch of the imagination. According to the illustrations they’d found, Herpo was a short wizard with a severe face and terrible posture. Peter had fashioned himself a cobra-shaped staff and was dressed in a flowing blue, Ancient Greek-style robe, which the other boys had all had a good laugh about (‘ _Nice dress, Peter,’)._

Remus was going as Yardley Platt, a serial goblin killer with freakishly sharp black eyebrows and Snape-like slick black hair.

Sirius and James had frowned almost identically when Remus was finished getting ready, and Sirius had cocked his head to the side, considering Remus carefully. “Well,” he had said, throwing James a significant glance. “The resemblance is really quite striking.”

James had laughed at that. “If I were the greasy slime ball I’d be wanting to see my family tree, I reckon they could be related.”

Remus had bowed pompously. “Then my transformation is complete.”

Peter looked at his watch. “Do you reckon the girls are ready?”

Sirius snorted derisively. “You’re kidding, right? They’re _girls_ getting ready for a costume party. By the time they’ve deemed themselves ready, it’ll be November.”

“I take it we’re going down without them, then?” James said, with an amused smile.

“If you want to wait around for Evans like some lovesick puppy, then be our guest,” Sirius teased, “We’ll go without you.”

“Padfoot?” James said, going to the door and opening it.

“Yeah, mate?”

“Shut up, you prat.”

* * *

The Great Hall had been completely transformed. Candle lit pumpkins with various menacing faces glittered from every flat surface and some floated above the heads of students. Live bats fluttered around the high ceiling - James briefly wondered aloud if they were confused by the enchanted ceiling, which showed a clear, velvety, star-studded sky. Enormous cobwebs stretched from corner to corner, and the house banners had been replaced with drapes of black.

The house tables had been lined up along the walls of the Hall, and the usual Halloween feast was spread across the tables, ready for students to come and pick at it as they pleased. The boys grinned as they looked around - a veritable menagerie of villains and creatures were mulling around the room, laughing and talking as though they hadn’t a care in the world. Even the teachers had gotten into the spirit - Professor Dumbledore looked even madder than usual as some sort of insane alchemist with singed hair and ash all over him and Professor McGonagall was prowling the teachers’ table in her Animagus form, with an orange witch’s hat fixed between her cat ears. The effect was actually quite cute.

“Who do you reckon Dumbles is?” Remus asked Sirius, who shrugged.

“Not a clue, Moony, but he looks mental.”

Peter was standing on his toes, looking in the direction of the table that was usually the Gryffindor table. “Hey, isn’t that Marlene and Lily?” He pointed at a pair of girls, who had their backs to the Marauders.

The boys all turned to look and James made a noise of surprise. “Start eating your words, Padfoot. They’re here before us.”

Sirius quirked a brow. “I’m impressed,” he nodded, giving the girls a slow clap. 

The Marauders shouldered through the crowd towards Lily and Marlene.

“Evans looks good,” James noted, and Sirius and Remus exchanged looks.

“When does she look anything _but_ good to you?” Peter teased, rolling his eyes.

James opened his mouth to make some snappy retort, but at that moment, the girls spotted them and turned.

Lily _did_ look gorgeous, in a velvety blue Medieval-style dress with gold brocade around the sleeves and hem and a square neckline. Her sleeves loosened around the elbow before tightening again at the wrist, and her hands were adorned with glittering rings. A heavy, bejewelled belt rested around her waist, and she wore the kind of headdress that had been popular in medieval times over her long red hair. Her lovely face was free of any makeup, aside from a splash of red on her lips.

Marlene also looked very pretty, in a purple and black dress with a fitted bodice and a long pleated skirt. Her golden-brown hair had been brushed and brushed until it was soft and cloudy and then half pulled back with ornate tortoiseshell combs. In her hands, she held a silver mirror.

The boys greeted the pair and tried to guess who they were, without success.

“Watch this,” Marlene said, lifting the mirror so the boys could see her reflection in the glass. They recoiled immediately and Marlene grinned, accepting a high-five from Lily. The mirror was showing the reflection of an incredibly ugly woman with a twisted, malicious face - a woman who was definitely _not_ Marlene.

“Isn’t it a great bit of magic?” Lily said excitedly.

“I’m Malodora Grymm,” Marlene explained. “She was a hag who used a beautification potion to conceal her true form. She married a king and had this mirror that told her how gorgeous she was, but she was still so insecure and she was insanely jealous of this beautiful young girl who lived in the village.” Marlene reached into a concealed pocket in her dress and pulled out an apple. She held it up by the stem. “So she fed her a poisoned apple to get rid of her.” The apple revolved slowly, and as it did, it changed from vibrant, delicious red to a poisonous green.

“Good job, Marlene,” Remus exclaimed, and the boys applauded appreciatively. Marlene curtsied.

“What about you, Evans?” James asked, turning to her and unashamedly looked her over from head to toe again.

“I’m Morgan le Fay,” Lily answered imperiously. That one was reasonably self-explanatory – Morgan le Fay was the half-sister of King Arthur and the adversary of Merlin.

James looked interested. “Why did you pick her?”

Lily shrugged. “She’s ambiguous,” she explained. “She’s been painted as a villainess by some stories, achieves redemption in others… She’s an enigma. Who are you?” This last was directed towards James.

“Ethelred the Ever-Ready.”

“How suitable,” Lily observed wryly, raising a brow.

“I thought you’d appreciate the irony,” James said, with a roguish grin.

“Where’s Mary and Izza?” Sirius asked, bored with James and Lily’s banter; maybe one day they’d stop bickering and Evans would realise she relished James and all his quirks. He looked around, as if Izza and Mary might jump out at them suddenly from behind one of the students milling around.

“Uh, getting us drinks, I think. There they are now.” Lily pointed to the pair, who were walking towards them.

Izza looked so striking it was difficult to look away from her. Her eyes had been done up in shades of smoky charcoal, which really made the violet-blue of her irises stand out. Her full lips had been stained crimson, with a little trail of scarlet trickling from the corner of her mouth and down her chin, and her dark hair had been left loose and naturally wavy. She wore a stunning necklace that was shaped like a coiled snake and the snake’s head rested in the hollow of her throat, its ruby eyes glinting in the candlelight. She had even magically elongated her canine teeth; the points rested on her pillowy lower lip.

Her dress was lovely, high-waisted, with a bodice that was either shimmering silver or a deep, ashy slate-grey, depending on which way the light caught it. It was fastened at the front with clasps that looked like tiny silver tulips. Beneath it was a blouse that looked as if it was fashioned from gossamer, with embroidered borders around the neck. Over the top was a thin, charcoal-coloured coat with tapered sleeves that went to the Izza’s slender wrists, which looked to be pressed into place on either side of Izza’s waist with tiny silver buttons. The skirt looked like liquid silver, with a pattern worked in many shades of grey silk thread around the hem. She also wore a black cloak, lined with silver, with the kind of high collar Muggles tended to associate with vampires.

“Who are you?” Peter asked her, looking confused.

“Lady Carmilla Sanguina,” Izza said haughtily, holding out a gloved hand for Peter to kiss. She was letting her accent come through a lot thicker than usual, to go with her costume and character.

Lily grinned when the four boys still looked confused. “She was a vampire who bathed in the blood of her victims to stay young and beautiful.”

“Do you like it?” Izza asked, dropping her character for a moment and twirling on the spot. “The dress is authentic - my grandfather sent it over for me.”

“You look great,” James said, looking Izza up and down appreciatively.

“Why thank you, James,” Izza said, looking up at him through her lashes. “For that, I won’t kill you,” she purred, touching the pulse point in his neck.

Sirius clapped. “Oh, you’re perfect,” he said, impressed.

Like James, Mary was nearly unrecognisable, thanks to some clever spellwork. She appeared to be a wizened crone with a hooked nose and straggly white hair. She smiled at them, showing off two rows of sharp teeth. In her hand, she clutched a knobbly broomstick.

“I’m Babayaga,” Mary said, with a wink. “I eat children.” She turned and grabbed the drinks off the floating trays she and Izza had levitated and passed them around.

They spent some time having something to eat and talking about their costumes, as the boys went on to explain their own characters. Izza made them laugh again and again by over-exaggerating her accent and refusing every plate of food, because she was ‘partial to AB negative.’

A tinkling sound drew eventually drew their attention. Dumbledore was signalling for some hush, so he could speak.

The Headmaster spread his arms in a gesture of welcome. “Hello! I hope you are enjoying yourselves thus far. It is wonderful to see you all dressed up. Later in the evening, we will have some costume prizes, which I’m sure will be very difficult to award. For now, though, if you wish to take the floor for pairs dancing, you should do so now.”

Pairs dancing was that part of any wizarding event that was the favourite of the adults and generally only enjoyed if you knew the steps. Purebloods like Sirius and Izza and James had had the steps of all the traditional dances all but rammed down their throats, virtually since they could walk, and so they both enjoyed that part of the evening, but Muggleborns and half-bloods, like Lily and Mary always felt a bit awkward.

Sirius and Izza exchanged a look. No words were necessary - dancing was one part of their upbringing that they both genuinely loved. Sirius stood and offered his arm to Izza, who took it with an incline of her head and a small smile. He led her onto the dance floor, her beautiful silvery dress whispering across the flagstones.

James stood too. “Come on, Lily; I’ll teach you the steps.” He held out his hand. “Uh, if you want to, of course.”

Lily hesitated, looking at Marlene and Mary questioningly; they both shrugged. Lily let out a long breath, looking at James’ outstretched hand. What harm could it do, really? It wasn’t like she was agreeing to a date. With only a small amount of trepidation, Lily accepted his arm.

Mary and Peter wandered away to get some more food, and Marlene and Remus took up a couple of seats at the edge of the dance floor. They watched as, with a flourish, the dancers turned to their partners and bowed as they would in a duel. Then the music began and the dancers came together. The first dance was a traditional waltz - classic and beautiful to watch - when watching the pairs who knew what they were doing at least.

“Look at them. They’re so gorgeous together,” Marlene sighed, as Izza twirled into Sirius’ arms and he spun her around and down into a dip with ridiculous ease and elegance.

Remus let out a laugh of agreement. “They do have chemistry.” As he spoke, Sirius pulled Izza upright, their hips connecting intimately as the music paused. A beat passed before the music resumed and they danced off.

Marlene sighed once more and Remus watched her foot move up and down in time to the music. He grinned. “Do you want to dance?” he asked.

Marlene lit up and she clapped her hands together. “Really?” she exclaimed, thrilled. “Do you know the steps?”

“Sort of,” Remus said, a sudden nervousness flowing through him. “Aren’t you pureblood? Don’t you know them?”

Marlene smiled and took Remus’ hand. “Yes, but I’m a girl. These are traditional dances - the boy has to lead.” She stood up, pulling Remus with her toward the dance floor.

“We can always watch Sirius and Izza and attempt to copy them,” he said dubiously and Marlene laughed. She put one of his hands on her hip, and linked her fingers with his free hand.

“Or we could laugh in the face of tradition and just go for it,” she suggested.

“Oh, I like that plan,” Remus agreed, nodding.

Remus quickly discovered that just winging it was enough to help him remember the steps his father had taught him years ago. Of course, it helped that he had a good partner; Marlene was a beautiful dancer, and Remus felt himself grinning in answer to Marlene’s own smile. Looking around, it seemed like they were slightly ahead of the beat, but that didn’t matter. Remus liked how carefree Marlene was - she didn’t really take herself seriously, which was quite attractive in a girl.

“Looking good, Moony,” Sirius laughed, slapping Remus’ backside jokingly as he and Izza whirled past them.

Over the other side of the dance floor, an amazing situation was developing - James and Lily were in close proximity without attempting to rip each other’s throats out. In fact, Lily even found herself having… _fun._ She was also discovering that traditional dancing didn’t really agree with her, but that wasn’t her teacher’s fault. 

“You’re getting it,” James said encouragingly. He’d had the patience of a saint so far, despite Lily’s incoordination.

Lily laughed in spite of herself and tried not to trip on the hem of her dress. “Don’t be ridiculous, Potter. I’m awful at this!”

James grinned crookedly. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

“Bugger, sorry,” Lily muttered, as she nearly crushed his toes.

James paused, looking at her thoughtfully. Then, a mischievous grin appeared on his face; the sort of grin he got when he was planning something, the sort of grin that usually ended in chaos and disaster and detentions.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lily asked nervously.

James didn’t say anything. Instead, he put an arm around her waist, pulling her right up close against his body. Lily yelped and he laughed.

“Put your feet on top of mine,” he instructed, and Lily suddenly understood. Her father used to do the same thing when she was little. She did as she was told and laughed as James began to move. “Look,” he said, “You’re dancing.”

Lily raised her brows at him. “No, _you’_ _re_ dancing.”

James shrugged. “Semantics.”

Lily had never been this close to Potter before - not by choice at least - but she found it wasn’t completely repulsive. For one thing, he wasn’t trying to do any Potter-ish things, like put his hand on her bum. He wasn’t even going out of his way to be flirtatious. He was just being natural, and a part of Lily quite liked it. Part of her was thinking that if Potter was like this all the time, they could have been friends years ago. 

Lily looked up at Potter contemplatively. He was staring absently over her shoulder but when she didn’t look away, he looked down at her.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re different this year,” Lily said.

“Really?” James said, with a tiny smile, like he didn’t believe her.

“Yeah,” Lily persisted. “Earlier, when that kid bumped into us… I’ll admit I was expecting you to hex him.” Lily frowned, thinking. “I don’t think I’ve seen or heard about you hexing anyone for no good reason this year at all.”

James shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I barely even noticed that kid. I’ve got other things on my mind.”

Lily was curious, but she let it drop. Despite herself, she was actually having fun, and didn’t want to ruin the evening by pushing Potter’s buttons. He didn’t seem as likely to snap as he had in the past, but still, there was no use taking chances. She was enjoying the peace for a change, without his ridiculous pursuing of her.

The next dance was quicker, sexier, with more body-to-body contact than Lily was entirely comfortable with, especially when it involved James Potter. She stepped away from him, her cheeks feeling faintly warm.

“I’m thirsty,” she muttered. “Let’s go sit with Mary and Peter.”

If James had noticed the abrupt end to the dance, he seemed unfazed. He followed Lily over to where Mary and Peter were sitting and, to Lily’s surprise, even insisted that she take the free chair next to Mary. He then disappeared back into the crowd, looking for another chair.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mary asked her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing,” Lily said, shrugging Potter’s _weird_ behaviour off. “What are you two doing?”

“Taking bets on how long it’ll be until Sirius and Izza hook up,” Peter said nonchalantly, gesturing to where Izza and Sirius were still dancing. Izza’s hips were moving sinuously, completing the dance steps flawlessly, and in a way that was drawing plenty of male eyes to her. Sirius had his hands on those same hips, following her as she sashayed backwards.

“My money’s on less than two months,” Peter added, grinning at Lily and flipping a large gold galleon with his thumb.

“See, I disagree,” Mary argued. “They’re both so oblivious and stubborn, I reckon it’ll be much longer.”

Lily had to laugh. “You both really think that a day will come when the Ice Queen and the King of Casual Dating will wake up and realise that they’re madly in love with each other?”

Peter and Mary looked at each other and then nodded. “Come on, Lily,” Peter said. “The chemistry between them… If I had chemistry like that with a girl, I’d be doing a lot more than just dancing with her.”

Mary slapped Peter’s arm. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Pettigrew.”

Lily smiled wryly. “I can tell you both now that a snowball has a better chance in the fiery pits of Hell than there is chance of Izza and Sirius getting together.”

Lily meant what she said. Chemistry, spark, fire… it was all well and good, but she just couldn’t see anything ever eventuating between Sirius and Izza; they were almost too similar, it would have to result in clashes, Lily thought. Of course, she could be wrong, she thought; she hadn’t quite trusted her own judgement one hundred percent lately. How could she, when the whole world was uncertain?

* * *

The night wore on in the same relaxed, happy manner. The Marauders stayed out of trouble, thankfully, though Lily had a feeling they felt a bit thwarted by the eyes of the teachers, which, as a precaution, seemed to be constantly on them. There was endless dancing, and feasting; the come-and-pick-at-it style of the nights’ feast seemed to make it far easier to eat much more than normal, as you lost track of what you’d already consumed.

Eventually, Professor Dumbledore called for quiet once more. “We have some prizes to announce,” he said happily, that twinkly look in his bright blue eyes. The awards were both silly and serious, with everything from ‘Best Use of Breakfast Cereal in a Costume’ to the more traditional ‘Best Dressed.’ Professor Dumbledore, with the assistance of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, awarded prizes for each year level, saving the seventh years for last.

“And now the seventh years. For wonderful creativity and clever Charms work-” Professor Flitwick beamed down at the gathered students - clearly he had awarded this prize, “- my colleagues chose to award Marlene McKinnon,” Dumbledore said, beckoning her forward. 

The Gryffindors burst out into loud cheers and Marlene blushed as she went up to accept her prize; a large basket of assorted Honeydukes sweets.

“For Best Authenticity, and, if I might add, terrifying teeth, we award Isidora Moldovan.”

Izza smiled, showing off her lengthened canines and went up to the stage to accept her prize.

“For Best Use of Props, we award Andrew Tippet.”

And so it went on, until the awards were finished. After that, anyone younger than fourth year was sent back to their common rooms. The older students were welcome to stay longer, to mingle and enjoy the last of the dances and whatever desserts were left.

The four girls and the four Marauders found some chairs in the corner of hall, near the big double doors, which they quickly claimed; James and Sirius retrieved some Butterbeers for everyone and Lily and Izza levitated some assorted sweets and desserts over for the group to share.

“I have to go to the loo,” Sirius announced, after handing everyone a Butterbeer, as though they all needed to know.

“I’ll come with you,” Izza said, with a whisper of silvery material as she stood and lifted her prize basket. “I’ll put this away.”

Peter and Mary both shot Lily significant looks and grinned knowingly when Sirius took the basket from Izza, saying gallantly “Let me carry that.” It was Lily’s turn to grin triumphantly only moments later when Marlene stood with her own basket and said she would go with them. Peter and Mary both looked crestfallen and slumped back into their chairs.

The group watched Sirius, Izza and Marlene go, and the ribbing started almost immediately, from James in Remus’ direction. Remus flushed deeply.

“I saw you and McKinnon dancing together,” James teased, poking Remus in the ribs. The latter just rolled his eyes and smiled embarrassedly, his cheeks blazing.

“Come off it, Prongs,” Remus said, slapping James’ hands away. “She wanted to dance and I was the only gullible sod left.”

James’ next witty comment was drowned out by a loud bang that sounded like it had come from the Entrance Hall. Lily looked at the others questioningly and James half-rose from his seat, a worried expression on his face…

Then the screaming began.

It was a bloodcurdling shriek, and it was followed by shouting and a mad rush to the doors of the Great Hall as people went to see what had happened. Lily stood up and began pressing through the crowd, vaguely aware of James on her heels.

Lily could hear Sirius shouting “Everyone stay back!” and it only made her shove her way through with more urgency, because the panic in Black’s voice was enough to chill her blood. Black never panicked. What if something had happened to Izza? Lily shoved her way through the crowd harder, ignoring the angry mutters from behind her.

She emerged into the Entrance Hall, with James, Remus, Mary and Peter right behind her and she blinked, not quite believing her eyes. Over by the stairs, three panicked girls were wringing their hands, their faces bloodless. Izza and Sirius were on their knees by the side of an unconscious boy. Lily felt sick; as she approached, she could see that the boy had clearly been beaten. His face was unrecognisable, and Lily tried very hard not to look at the odd angle at which his arm was bent, because it was making her feel quite ill.

She turned to Remus and the others, her brain clicking immediately into autopilot, quickly compartmentalising and prioritising. She was the Head Girl, she had to take control as best she could. “Remus,” she said, after taking a steadying breath. “Keep everyone inside. I don’t want any more kids seeing this.”

Remus nodded curtly and gestured to Mary and Peter. The three began corralling the other students back into Great Hall. By this time, teachers were realising that something was wrong and were emerging from the hall. 

Lily strode quickly over to the staircase. She wasn’t sure where James had gone, but she needed to help Sirius and Izza.

“What happened?” she demanded, getting down on her knees, opposite Izza.

Izza had three fingers on the pulse point in the boy’s neck. Her hands were scarlet red and slick - they were covered in blood, Lily realised with a sickening twist in her gut. Izza shook her head wordlessly, clearly at a complete loss and Lily looked at Sirius.

“Those girls were right behind us when we came out,” Sirius said, gesturing at the girls. One of them was sobbing hysterically and Lily made a mental note to make sure they had someone to talk to. “Iz and I were laughing at something I had said, we weren’t looking where we were going. The blonde one saw him first and told him to stop joking around - they thought it was a Halloween prank. That got our attention. Izza realised straight away that it wasn’t a joke. By the time she turned to tell the girls to be quiet, it was too late. They screamed.” Sirius shook his head. “We didn’t want this exact thing to happen - for everyone to come running.”

“He’s breathing,” Izza added quietly. “But he’s in bad shape.”

“Where’s Marlene?” Lily was still trying to put the pieces together, and her mind was racing from one worry to the next. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Professor McGonagall emerging from the crowd still gathered at the doors to the Great Hall, where Peter, Remus and Mary were holding them back.

“She went to get Madame Pomfrey,” Sirius said.

“What’s taking them so long?” Izza muttered, pushing the boy’s bloody, matted hair back from his face. She had her wand out, muttering through the basic healing spells they were all taught in class, but she wasn’t a certified Healer - they needed the Matron.  

It could have been hours, or minutes, but the time passed in a horrible blur of urgency and fear. Teachers kept running past, scouring the school for anyone who might be the attackers. Madame Pomfrey had arrived moments after Izza had uttered her name and was speaking incantations non-stop, her wand out.

And everything was so confusing. Lily wasn’t sure if bleary-eyed first, second and third years started filing past them back into the Great Hall before or after Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and several other teachers had left for the Hospital Wing, the prone body of the boy floating on a stretcher between them. She wasn’t sure when Professor Dumbledore arrived, but she watched him talk to Izza without actually hearing what was being said. All she could see was Izza’s bloodied hands as she gestured. 

Inside the Great Hall, students were being accounted for. It had quickly been established that the attacker was someone on the inside - it just didn’t seem possible that someone from outside the school had managed to get in completely undetected. The tension in the hall was palpable - everyone was hyper-aware of the fact that it was very possible that someone who had just beaten a kid to within an inch of their life was standing in their midst.

Professor Dumbledore’s voice was thunderous as he addressed the students. He called the attack ‘cowardly’ and implored anyone who thought they knew _anything_ to come forward, in total anonymity of course.

And then the interrogations began. The students were gathered in the Great Hall for their own safety, but they were quickly divided into groups according to whether they’d left the hall prior to the attack or not. Lily and James were standing with the teachers and Prefects and Lily looked at the two virtually even groups, wondering how on earth they would ever figure out who was behind the attack. How would they know truthfully who was in the hall at the time, and who wasn’t?

Behind Lily, Marlene was whispering to Izza. “Madame Pomfrey cleaned up his face. I heard Professor Flitwick telling Buchanan it was Finn Macleod. He’s a Hufflepuff, fifth year.”

Lily felt she’d just stepped through a ghost by accident. That name… it was so familiar. “Potter,” she hissed, grabbing his arm. “Finn Macleod - he was Esther Collins’ boyfriend.”

A deep line appeared between James’ brows. Lily waited, but he said nothing. “Come on,” she said insistently. “We have to tell Dumbledore.”

James shook his head. “He’ll already know, Lily, I can guarantee it.”

Lily opened her mouth to ask Potter why they shouldn’t make sure the Headmaster knew everything they knew when a fourth year Gryffindor boy approached them tentatively. Lily let go of James’ arm immediately.

“I-I wanted t-to tell you something,” the boy said nervously, glancing around to make sure no one around them was listening. Lily leaned in and beckoned him closer.

“What is it?’ she pressed gently.

The boy - Watts, Lily thought his name was - took a deep breath, seemingly to steel his resolve. “I l-left to go to bed at about twenty to twelve.” Lily nodded encouragingly - that was about ten minutes before Izza, Sirius and Marlene had come across Macleod. “And when I went out into the Entrance Hall, there was this group, hanging around by the staircase. And,” Watts glanced around again and lowered his voice, before continuing, “I passed Finn Macleod on the first floor. He was heading back downstairs. He looked really angry.”

Lily looked at James, who was still frowning pensively. “Who was in the group?” she asked and the boy swallowed nervously.

“Slytherins. J-Jared Avery and Rabastan L-Lestrange. R-Rosier.”

“Anyone else?” Lily asked.

The boy nodded, glancing past James’ elbow. Lily followed his gaze and her eyes fell on Sirius, who was standing with Remus and Izza, with one hand on Izza’s arm and the other on Remus’ shoulder protectively, like he was scared to let them go. “Regulus Black,” Watts said, his voice tremulous. “And Snape, too.”    

Lily pressed her lips together. She knew that there was nothing that crowd wanted more than to join up with the so-called Death Eaters, the moment they were clear of Hogwarts. Rumour had it that several of their parents and family members were already deeply ingrained; Sirius and Regulus’ cousin, Bellatrix, and her husband Rodolphus Lestrange - Rabastan’s older brother. Lily felt cold all over - had the war really infiltrated the previously safe walls of the school?

“Thank you,” she said dismissively to the kid, who looked relieved to melt back into the crowd. Lily barely noticed him go; her mind was turning at a dizzying rate, trying to make sense of the night’s events.

Suddenly, she thought of something. That night, that night earlier in the month, when she’d been in the library and had found that letter for Izza in the Drakula book - she’d heard that strange, sinister conversation. A male and a female who had been talking about a third female - his ‘little girlfriend,’ the woman had said. The male had questioned the female, had asked about the whereabouts of the third girl. Lily was reeling - it all fit didn’t it? Finn Macleod was Esther’s boyfriend… what if he knew something about her disappearance? Lily recalled the thinly veiled menace in the woman’s voice. If Finn knew something, then she was sure great lengths would be gone to in order to ensure he didn’t talk.

“What are you thinking?” James interrupted suddenly.

Lily pulled him deep into the corner of the hall and told him what she had heard that night in the library and the connection she had just made. James listened in complete silence until she was finished, his hazel eyes intent on her from behind his glasses.

“I need to tell Professor Dumbledore,” she mused, “Do you think Sirius would ask his brother some questions…?”

James grabbed her arms and forced her to look at him. “Lily, you can’t tell anyone what you just told me.”

“Why not?” Lily demanded, outraged, trying to wrench herself out of Potter’s grip. “A boy nearly died. We have a witness putting a group of Slytherins at the crime scene. And -”

“No,” James cut her off firmly. “Some students hanging around and an overhead conversation aren’t concrete evidence. Just think for a moment, Lily. You saw what happened to that kid. If you’re right, if he was just _thinking_ about talking, imagine what would happen if you started asking questions? These people aren’t playing around. We can’t for a moment underestimate them.”

“So you’re proposing we do nothing?” Lily snapped back at him, angrily.

James sighed in frustration, as if Lily was not understanding something very simple. “No, I’m telling you to keep your eyes and your ears open. If the Slytherins did have something to do with this… they’re just kids, like us. Not master criminals. One of them has got to be a weak link. One of them will slip up and give us solid evidence. Until then, we have to watch and wait, and leave the active investigating to the teachers.” 

Lily had to admit, she hadn’t thought her plan of action through, and Potter had made some good points. Maybe the only thing to do, sometimes, was to sit on your information and wait for the opportune moment. Patience had never been her strong suit though.

“I hate it when you’re right,” Lily muttered.

James squeezed her arm gently, comfortingly, before dropping his hand. “Isn’t it sad?” he murmured, almost more to himself, than to Lily.

“What?”

James was watching Sirius wipe the blood from Izza’s hand with a wet cloth he’d conjured. “That these kids can’t even be kids. That our safe place might not be safe. That no one has a goddamn clue what’s going on.”

 


	6. Chapter Five: Paranoid

_ CHAPTER FIVE: PARANOID _

“And then she broke up with him, so I’ve spent the last three days listening to Michael bitch about how much his life sucks, and how much he misses her.” Sean broke off briefly, so that Izza could remove his shirt, yanking it off up over his head. She briefly considered leaving it in place over his face - but doubted even that would shut him up. “You have no idea how good it is to get away,” Sean went on.

Izza rolled her eyes, glad for the darkness of The Cupboard, so he couldn’t see her look of annoyance. She was sitting on a stack of boxes, filled with cleaning supplies, with what felt like the handle of a broom sticking into her spine, and Sean expected her to give a damn about the pathetic problems of his friends? She wanted a shag, for crying out loud - _not_ a bloody monologue.

She curled her fingers in his hair, tighter than normal, and wrapped her legs around his hips. Boys were supposed to be the ones who wanted to shag first and talk never, and yet, with von Bertouch, it was always Izza doing the distracting.

“Sean,” she murmured, kissing him lightly on the mouth. “Shut up and get on with it. I’m hungry, and if we don’t hurry up, we’ll miss breakfast.”

Sean laughed and pressed his lips to her neck. “So demanding. You’re so hot.”

Izza closed her eyes and tipped her head back. “I know.”

She had said so to her friends, and it was certainly true; Sean’s mouth was very impressive when it wasn’t being used to talk. At that moment, he was kissing a path down the side of her neck and over her collarbone, and each kiss was sending pleasant tingles up her spine. One of his hands was on her thigh, creating that kind of static electricity against her stockings that almost tickled. The other was beneath her shirt, following the ripples of her vertebrae, looking for the clasp of her bra.   

“So, you didn’t tell me how your Hogsmeade trip was,” Sean murmured, undoing the clasp with deft fingers. Izza was briefly impressed. One-handed removal of clothing was a skill. Then, she was just annoyed – she wouldn’t be particularly surprised if Sean could talk underwater.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to meet your brother properly,” Sean went on, when Izza didn’t answer.

That was the last straw. The very last thing she wanted to think about right before sex was her brother. Her mood went out like a light.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said, putting her hand on Sean’s forehead and pushing him away. He blinked at her, confused. “My mood is dead, sorry buddy.” She slid off the boxes, straightening out her skirt and re-clasping her bra. She snatched her robes up and pulled them back on over her uniform.

“Hang on,” Sean said. “We didn’t finish.”

Izza picked up her bag and gave him the sweetest smile she could muster. “Well, darling, that’s why God gave you a right hand.” She patted his cheek and sauntered out of the broom cupboard, ever dignified despite the circumstances.

Izza ran her hands through her hair as she walked, checking her reflection in a window to make sure she didn’t look too ruffled. She couldn’t be bothered to go all the way to a bathroom, but also didn’t want to broadcast what she’d been doing to everyone at the Gryffindor table; she didn’t much feel like arguing with Sirius that morning, especially now that what should have been an excellent start to the day had been ruined by von Bertouch’s inane chatter.

She spotted her fellow seventh years almost straight away; they were all at the Gryffindor table already, and they were virtually impossible to miss, clustered as they were and with Lily’s distinctive deep red hair. Izza sat herself down in the only empty spot, in between Remus and Mary and opposite Lily.

“Where’ve you been?” Lily asked, by way of greeting.

“Around,” Izza said, with a non-committal shrug, piling scrambled eggs on a slice of toast. She could feel eyes on her, and she looked up, meeting Remus’ amused gaze. “What?” She elbowed him affectionately in the ribs for good measure.

“I can see right through you, Miss Moldovan,” he laughed, passing her the salt grinder. “You were with von Bertouch, weren’t you?”

Izza pretended to be affronted. “I resent your implication. I’m a highborn lady, Remus Lupin.” She lowered her voice. “How did you guess?”

Remus grinned. “You are slightly rumpled.” He reached out and smoothed her hair a little bit, then fixed her collar. “It was a good effort, though.”

Izza laughed a little, taking the goblet he then offered her. “You have eyes like a hawk, Lupin.”

“Someone has to be able to keep an eye on these two,” he said, gesturing at James and Sirius, who were enjoying their breakfast so thoroughly, that they didn’t notice. 

Izza was half-listening to Lily and Marlene talking about something Muggle-related (she really wasn’t listening very hard), but, more than that, she was thinking about Sean. She was attracted to him, she knew that much, but she really wished he didn’t talk so much. Right at the beginning of their relationship, or quasi-relationship, or whatever it was, she had told him that she wasn’t big on sharing. She didn’t like to make small talk about herself and she didn’t tell witty anecdotes about her life growing up in Romania and then England. But Sean was a talker - he needed that intimate knowledge of another person for emotional connection. Izza knew that there was nothing Sean’s best mate, Michael, didn’t know about him, and vice versa.

She sighed internally, wondering why she bothered. She should just find some selfish jerk who didn’t want commitment, who didn’t want any sort of relationship of the sharing, trusting kind - someone who was like her. Izza knew she didn’t have the capacity to be nice to someone who she just wasn’t that into. Huffing again, she clinked her fork down on her plate. She was going to have to break up with von Bertouch.

Izza was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the owls arriving with the post until a huge, tawny-coloured owl landed right in front of her. She glanced around at her friends - she’d never seen the owl before, and it wasn’t a school owl. Remus shrugged, and so did Mary. A moment later, Izza’s own owl, Magnus, landed next to the strange owl. She took his letter and her newspaper first - Magnus was temperamental, and was likely to bite someone if he was made to wait too long. When her owl had departed, she turned her attention to the other bird. It blinked at her and held out its leg. She untied the note from its leg and it took off, almost before she was done. She put that letter aside and opened the letter delivered by Magnus first - she knew who it would be from, and wanted to get the torture over with straight away.

Sure enough, her name had been addressed in her grandmother’s handwriting.

_Dearest Isidora,_

_I know your Christmas holidays are approaching, and as you write to us so sporadically that it might well be Easter before we get a letter from you, -_ Izza snorted derisively; she had inherited her stinging sarcasm from her grandmother, but that didn’t mean she liked it coming at her in that manner - _I wanted to remind you that you promised to come home for Christmas. The four families have already starting preparing for the Christmas party. Margareta wants to depart from tradition this year, though it is Elisabeta and Stere Diaconu‘s turn to host, so ultimately it is up to them, and I’m sure they will stick with the traditional masquerade._

_If you could break from your busy life long enough to send the date of your return to us, so I can have your room ready, that would be wonderful._

_Remember your cousin Ivanka is having her engagement party on the twenty-second and she wants the whole family to be there, so there’ll be no excuses, young lady. You must be here in time for that, though earlier would be nice as well._

_I_ _’ll conclude for now, and await your return letter._

Izza sighed. Christmas with the whole family - what fun. She knew there would be no getting out of it. Her grandfather would come to Hogwarts and forcibly drag her home, probably, if she rebelled.

Ignoring Lily’s curious look, she turned her attention to the second letter. The parchment was heavy and, as she opened it, the thick handwriting was completely unrecognisable. It was only one sentence.

_Do you really know your family’s secrets?_

Izza was pretty sure that the colour had drained from her face, because blood was pounding in her ears and her heart was picking up speed. What the hell did that mean? It was unsigned, and Izza automatically looked around her. Who had sent her this, and more importantly, _how dare they?_ She wasn’t scared - and maybe that was stupid of her - but she was seeing red. She was furious. Whether this was a prank or serious, Izza wanted to get her hands on the idiot behind it. If it was a joke, it wasn’t funny. If it was serious, then she wanted to know who the hell presumed to know anything about her or her family. 

“Are you all right?” Remus asked suddenly.

Izza folded the letter up quickly and looked up. The girls and the four boys had all stopped talking and were looking at her with undisguised curiosity.

“You look kind of pale,” James put in. Izza met his gaze briefly, and his eyes flicked to the folded parchment in her hand. She put the hand that was holding the letter under the table.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly. “It’s nothing.” She braced for Lily’s inevitable third degree, but it didn’t come, and the other girl looked away when Izza met her gaze. 

“Izza -” Sirius began, but she cut him off.

“It’s _nothing_.”

Sirius was quick enough that Izza didn’t see his hand shoot out until he was plucking the letter from her grip and holding it out of her reach. “Who’s it from?” he teased, waving the parchment around. “Is it a love letter from von Bertouch?”

Remus, it seemed, was the first to recognise the danger signs written on Izza’s face, like the muscle that was working in the angle of her jaw. “Padfoot, I don’t think -”

But it was too late. Sirius unfolded the note and his grey eyes moved over the single sentence. His brows pulled together more with each word he read.

“What the hell is this?” he said eventually.

Izza was trying very hard not snap; her temper, though not easily provoked, was like a hurricane when it crested. Sirius had just broken one of her cardinal rules – respect for her privacy. She didn’t want to make a huge scene, but a break of trust was not something she could just let slip, because it wasn’t in her nature.

She stood up and snatched the letter from Sirius’ hand. “Who…” She took a moment to breathe, and stop herself from shouting at him. “Don’t _ever_ do that again.” Her voice was low and dangerous and all her friends were dead silent. “Who do you think you are?”

Izza picked up her bag, her grandmother’s letter and her newspaper and walked away. Blood was still rushing in her ears, thunderous, and she felt like hitting something or smashing something. Her wand trembled in the pocket of her robes, vibrating with her anger. She heard Lily’s voice, calling her name, but she kept walking. If she didn’t get out of the Great Hall, then her temper was going to get the better of her.

As such, she was the first one to arrive for Transfiguration. She took up her normal seat at the back of the room and sat slightly on an angle, so she could look out the window. She took deep, steadying breaths and tried not to look at her bag, where she had stuffed the letter. On her hand, she twisted her Moldovan ring around and around, letting the sensation calm her.

Eventually, her classmates filtered in. Sirius, who usually sat on her immediate right, was one of the last to arrive. He sat down slowly, and Izza could see him slump slightly in his seat, stretching his long legs out beneath his desk. Izza cursed him and his natural grace.

Reluctantly, she looked over at him. She knew he was sorry, and had been the moment he’d opened the note; she could tell by the sad set of his shoulders. Sirius took loyalty and trust just as seriously as she did. To question his trustworthiness would hurt him just as deeply as a stab to the gut would.

Still, Izza appreciated that Sirius was the first to broach the silence between them. “Don’t kill me,” he whispered, glancing to the front of the room, as Professor McGonagall entered. “I was just joking around. But, Izza -”

“Not now,” Izza said firmly, jerking her head in McGonagall’s direction. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Sirius shot her the most adorable, crooked smile he could muster, knowing he had her forgiveness. “Sounds delightful. Punish me any way you see fit.”

Izza rolled her eyes. Only Sirius could turn her anger into very un-subtle insinuations and have her not actually be that mad about it.

* * *

After class, Lily and Mary watched Izza grab Sirius’ collar and drag him off.

“Oh, he’s in trouble,” Mary said.

Lily laughed and turned back to her desk, gathering up her books and parchment and putting it all into her bag. “What have you got next?” she asked Mary, who was doing the same thing.

Mary paused and thought for a moment. “Ugh, double Care of Magical Creatures.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Lily said, surprised by Mary’s reaction.

“Normally, no, but apparently we’re doing theory for the whole lesson.”

Lily winced sympathetically. “That sucks.”

Mary nodded, grimacing. “Yeah, Professor Kettleburn reckons that if we sat our theory NEWT tomorrow, the assessors would have to create a whole new grade below Troll.” 

“Is that even possible?” Lily asked, as they headed for the door.

“Well,” Mary considered, “The only person I know who has actually read past the first chapter of our textbook is Leonie Peters, and she is the most stereotypical Ravenclaw you’ll ever meet.”

The girls emerged into the corridor and began heading in the direction that would take them down to the Entrance Hall. Lily’s shoes clicked cheerfully against the stone floor, and she adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

“What have you got?” Mary asked.

“A double free,” Lily said, smirking as Mary groaned.

“You lucky bitch. What are you going to do?”

“Uh, I’m actually going to head over to the hospital wing. Finn Macleod is feeling a lot better, I’ve heard.” Lily purposefully avoided Mary’s eye, pretending she had all the business in the world going to visit Finn Macleod.

Mary looked a little surprised. “Have they found out anything more? I saw Dumbledore walking on the grounds with the Minister for Magic.” Mary always seemed to see and hear things that most people didn’t notice. It was an excessively useful talent.

Lily shook her head and sighed. “Apparently he won’t talk about it. Potter and I spoke to Professor Dumbledore yesterday, and he thinks that maybe Finn will feel more comfortable talking to other students, instead of teachers.” 

Mary stopped. “I guess this is where we split, then. Save me a seat at lunch. I’ll try not to die in Care of Magical Creatures.”

Lily giggled and bade goodbye to her friend, then went up to the third floor. She opened the double doors of the hospital wing and slipped inside as quietly as possible. It was very still inside; privacy curtains surrounded two beds down the end of the room, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

Madame Pomfrey emerged from her office and gestured for Lily to come over.

“Hello,” Lily said quietly. “Is it all right if I have a quick chat with Finn?”

The nurse nodded. “The Headmaster told me you were coming. You don’t have long, though; he still needs to rest.”

“I understand,” Lily said.

“It’s the bed closest to us, with the curtain.”

Lily went to the bed in question and cautiously opened the curtains. Finn was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Lily was struck by the severity of what had been done to him – on Friday night, in the rush of adrenaline, she had seen the swelling and blood, but now on Monday morning, in the cold light of day it was a different matter. The bruises were starting to turn a mottled blue-grey colour and he bore the unmistakable signs of a broken nose. Madame Pomfrey’s treatments were clearly taking some time to completely heal him.

“I’m not going to bite you,” the boy said suddenly, shifting his eyes to her.

Lily sat down on the edge of his bed. “They fixed your arm,” she observed.

Finn nodded. “That part was easy. The bruises are a pain in the patella, though.” He smiled weakly, and Lily got the distinct impression that even that small gesture was painful. “Madame Pomfrey puts this foul smelling shit on my face every day. She reckons it’ll look worse before it gets better.”

“Do you remember much about Friday night?” Lily asked gently.

Finn pressed his lips together. “Look,” he said tiredly. “I’ve already told McGonagall and Dumbledore and everyone that I don’t remember anything. I don’t know who did this to me.”

Lily had a feeling that that was an out and out lie. Finn was suddenly not meeting her gaze, and he had been so quick to say he didn’t know anything…

“Finn, if you’re worried about retribution, or anything like that, then don’t be. Whatever you tell me is completely confidential. But you can’t let this potentially happen to someone else.” 

“You’re nice,” Finn said, after considering her for a while. “But look at me. If I remembered anything, which I don’t-” he added hurriedly, “-I’d be an idiot to start dogging people out. I’d bloody get myself killed.” The last part was muttered, and Lily had to lean in to catch it. Finn looked up and met Lily’s eyes, holding her gaze strongly. “Stop asking questions, Lily. It’s like I said; you’re nice. I don’t want something like this happening to you.”

Lily felt cold all of a sudden. James Potter had all but said the same thing - that questions would only lead to suffering. But where James had expressed the sentiment with concern, Finn’s statement sounded more like a threat. She looked away.

“Well, thanks for talking to me,” she said, standing up. She sensed the conversation was at an end; Finn’s face was hard. “I better go before Madam Pomfrey chases me away.”

“Be safe, Lily,” Finn said, just before she slipped back through the curtain.

Madame Pomfrey was back in her office, so Lily just left the hospital as quickly as she could. She wasn’t quite sure what she had hoped to get out of talking to Macleod, but she didn’t really appreciate the jumpy, nervous feeling that had been left in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

James and Sirius were some of the first students to reach the Great Hall after the bell rang to signal lunchtime, both starving and over-eager. They took up seats at the Gryffindor table and started on the food, too hungry to bother waiting for any of their other friends. They would all join the pair when they arrived.

Sirius was happily tucking into his sandwich when James looked up and smirked rakishly at him, staring at him for so long that Sirius eventually looked up from his food, annoyed.

“What?” he snapped.

“So?”

Sirius continued to stare at James, confused. “So what?”

“Did you and Izza get over your little lovers’ tiff?” James asked, grinning cheekily.

“Lovers’ tiff?” Sirius repeated in disbelief. “A lovers’ tiff is a few words followed by make-up sex. I thought she was going to rip my throat out, and I certainly didn’t get any make-up sex.”

James looked sympathetic. “Hey, at least you know that if it was anyone else, she probably _would_ have ripped their throat out.” He watched the look on Sirius’ face, and quickly realised that his mate was actually taking what had happened with Izza quite seriously. “She’ll get over it, Padfoot. She knows you didn’t mean anything by it, you were just mucking around,” he said, a little more gently.

Sirius shrugged. “She gave me a telling off, that’s for sure.”

James hesitated, though he was dying to ask one simple question. “What… what was in the letter?”

Sirius’ head jerked up, and he looked at James for a long time. Then, he looked back down at his plate and shook his head. “I can’t tell. I want to tell you Prongs, you know I do. But it’s not my secret to tell and it doesn’t matter anyway, Izza reckons it was just a silly prank.”

James opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped abruptly, looking at something over Sirius’ left shoulder. Sirius turned. Standing behind him was a pretty Hufflepuff. She was small, breakable-looking, with pale blonde hair that was cut stylishly short. Sirius couldn’t remember her name for the life of him.

“Um, hi,” she said nervously. “I’m Adina. Adina Shepherd.” She held out her hand and Sirius shook it, giving her a roguish grin that made the girl blush deeply. She smiled and Sirius decided she had a really nice smile - it was wide and genuine. “I’m actually looking for Peter. Have you guys seen him?”

James and Sirius exchanged glances. “We haven’t,” Sirius told her. “But he had double Herbology just now, so I’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

“Ok, thanks,” Adina said. “It was good to actually meet you boys properly. Peter says I’m to keep an eye on you, though,” she said to Sirius, with a mischievous smile and a friendly punch on the shoulder. 

Oh, he liked the girl.

James and Sirius watched Adina go back to the Hufflepuff table, then turned back to each other with identical, wicked grins.

“Peter’s got himself a girl!” James crowed and slapped Sirius’ hand with a high five.

“I like that one,” Sirius said. “She’s got spark. Not like that dead-head he dated last year.”

James nodded. “Hey,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Moony!”

Remus settled down next to Sirius and jerked his head in greeting.

“Have you seen Wormtail?” James went on eagerly. “We need to tease him mercilessly!”

Remus laughed and looked at Sirius curiously. “What’s happened this time?”

“Peter’s got himself a cute little Hufflepuff chasing after him,” Sirius explained. “Adina Shepherd – do you know her?”

Remus nodded. “She’s got a twin in Ravenclaw.”

Once again, James and Sirius exchanged wicked looks. “Oh, he lucked out,” James said. “Twins?”

Remus nodded once more, sagely. “The perverts’ greatest fantasy.”

James was looking over at the Hufflepuff table contemplatively and didn’t seem to hear what Remus had said. “I can’t believe he has a girl on the go and he didn’t tell us. We’re his best mates; he should tell us every little thing that goes on his life, the very second that it happens. Like the time Sirius accidentally activated the two-way mirror while he was going at it with that Ravenclaw bird last year. I was too proud to be disgusted.”

Sirius looked at Remus, who made a noise in his throat and pulled a face. “Maybe not everything,” Moony said. “There are some things that go through a blokes’ head that even his mates don’t want to know.”

“And you would know?” Sirius joked.

“Yes,” Remus said, deadpan. “Like a certain fantasy I have about your mum. You probably wouldn’t want to hear about that.”

James roared with laughter and Sirius couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth. “You are a sick, twisted lad, Remus Lupin.”

“That’s why you love me,” Moony said cheerfully, reaching for the salad.

“All right, that’s enough, you don’t want me to be sick all over you,” Sirius said, going back to his almost-forgotten sandwich. 

* * *

 

The day dragged on for Izza. She caught only the very end of lunch and then had a full afternoon of classes, all of which seemed to go on forever. By the time dinner finally arrived, Izza didn’t feel very hungry at all. She was still thinking about that morning and about the anonymous letter, which she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to throw away yet. It was a relief when her friends were finished with their meals and they could all head back to the warm, comfortable common room.

After giving the Fat Lady the password - ‘Charlatans’ - Izza claimed the best chair by the fireplace and pulled a small red ottoman towards her, so she could stretch her long legs out. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the cushion of the armchair, slowly rolling her head around and trying to achieve the kind of crack that would hopefully release all the tension from her neck. 

Remus and Mary had started up a game of chess, and even without opening her eyes, Izza knew Remus was winning. She could hear the scratching of a quill and the occasional turning of the pages of a book. Then there was the hum of background noise – people talking and making general noise. She zoned in on each set of noises, concentrating on each individual one and trying to empty her minds, the way her grandfather had taught her when imparting the ways of Occlumency on her.

But piercing intermittently through it all was an incessant tapping, which was getting on her nerves. Who was doing that?

“Hey!” a voice said - Marlene, by the sound of it - “Look at that owl.”

Izza heard footsteps and then the scrape of the window being opened. She sighed and opened her eyes, just as something big and feathery came flying at her. She cursed and jumped out of her chair as the owl landed on the back of it. As Izza looked at the bird, it cocked its head and stared at her with amber eyes. It was the same owl from that morning. It held out its leg expectantly. Izza stared at the animal, hoping the horror she felt welling inside her wasn’t showing on her face.

“Are you… going to get that?” James asked hesitantly.

Izza retrieved the letter with stiff fingers and watched as the owl flew back out the window. “What next?” she muttered, as she slid a finger beneath the wax seal - not any crest she recognised - and broke it.

_I know something you don’t know._

It was the same thick, unusual handwriting as the first letter. Izza’s heart was speeding up again and there was a rushing in her ears, roaring like a tidal wave until the common room around her was little more than a dull hum. Who was doing this to her, and why?

Her fist closed involuntarily, crushing the parchment in her hand.

Silence. Izza looked around; the Marauders and Lily, Mary and Marlene, and a good number of other Gryffindors in the vicinity had fallen completely silent and were staring at her with unveiled curiosity.

“Izza?” Lily probed gently.

Izza ignored Lily and pulled out her wand. “ _Incendio._ ” The letter burst into flames and, moments later, was just a small pile of ash that ran through Izza’s fingers and onto the rug below.

“Wow,” Peter said. “Remind me never to annoy her.”

For the first time in a long while, Izza wished she wasn’t at Hogwarts. She wished she was at home, in Romania, flying her grandmother’s Granians. The winged horses were spirited and hard work, even for experienced handlers, as Izza was. It was a magnificent calf-burning, lung-searing feeling to be high in the clouds above the Carpathians, feeling the rhythmic beat of the great, car-length wings of the horse. It was like ascending into a different world, as long as she was strong enough to ride through each powerful wing-beat and spirited toss of the horses’ head. It was a place where she didn’t have to think about anything except _further_. It was freedom like no other.

“Izza, tell us -”

Izza cut off Lily, not hearing any of what her best friend said. “I need some air.” She shoved her wand back in her pocket and headed for the portrait hole.

Lily watched her go, and then exchanged a look with Marlene. They were all amazed by what they had just seen; Izza just didn’t display like that, normally. Izza was the ice queen - the one who kept everything inside and everyone at arm’s length, totally unreadable and unfathomable.

“Should someone go after her?” James asked uncertainly.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to me,” Lily said, “She needs time to cool off.”

As if sharing identical thoughts, Marlene and Mary turned to Sirius, who looked briefly confused, then he shook his head vigorously.

“No. No way. Don’t look at me like that. Believe me, I want answers too, but she won’t just shoot the messenger, she’ll castrate me and then rip me to shreds. I’ve already had one near-death experience with her today, and it was one too many. Evans is right, give the girl space.” 

Remus smiled ever so slightly. “You coward.”

Sirius shot Remus a look that suggested he thought the other boy had a few Hippogriffs loose in the top paddock. “She’s bloody scary when she’s like this, mate. If you’re volunteering, then good luck to you. I’ll start arranging the funeral.”

Remus sighed and pulled himself out of his chair. “You call yourself a Marauder?” he scoffed, jokingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll go.”

Remus was well aware that sometimes a heated situation needed a different point of view. Sirius, Lily, Marlene, Mary… they were too close to the situation, Izza knew their approach already. She and Remus were friends, of course, but when it came to her list of most trusted confidants, he knew he wasn’t at the top. Still, he also knew that she _did_ trust him in some sense, and Remus usually found himself playing the role of the mediator; the cool, calm, level-head. He was good at that, he liked being that for his friends.

Remus went upstairs first, to retrieve the Marauders’ Map from James’ bedside cupboard, which showed Izza moving along the fifth floor corridor at a blistering pace. By the time he returned to the common room, Sirius had assumed an expression that Remus would expect at a wake.

“Good luck, Moony. You’ll bloody need it,” Sirius said morosely. He crossed himself.

Remus just rolled his eyes. Izza was like a thoroughbred, or a fancy Hippogriff - temperamental and highly strung, and in need of an expert touch at times like this. Remus wasn’t a Prefect for nothing; he really was very good at calming people down.

Izza had stopped in an empty classroom on the fourth floor, for which Remus was very glad. He had neither the inclination nor the athletic ability to chase someone with legs as long as Izza’s all over the castle.

When he reached the door behind which Izza’s dot on the map was, he knocked gently. Inside, he heard a muttered curse, then a scrape - like a chair being pushed back - and the door opened. Izza didn’t even look surprised to see that Remus was the nominated champion of Calming Izza Down. He followed Izza inside and she sat down on the edge of a desk. Remus leaned casually against the desk opposite her. He wasn’t going to push her, as she would probably just snap and tell him to go jump, or maybe even throttle him, but rather, let her open up to him on her own terms.

“Trust them to send you,” she sighed, crossing her arms. “What a bunch of cowards.”

Remus smiled wryly. “I said nearly the exact same thing.”

Izza was looking at the floor, and she was quiet for a long time. Remus let the silence go on uninterrupted, because it wasn’t a bad, awkward silence. He took in the sight of her; thick, dark hair waving over her shoulders and well down her back, her full lips, and dark lashes like ink strokes against her cheeks. There were dark circles beneath her eyes - she was tired.

“You know, I’m fine,” she said eventually, giving him a look that just dared him to disagree with her.

“I said that too, but Sirius was convinced you’d attempt to rob him of his manhood if he came to talk to you.”

Izza laughed briefly, and Remus grinned. One point to him.

“I wouldn’t _attempt,_ Lupin. I’d _succeed,_ ” she said, with such a straight face that it took Remus a moment to realise she was probably joking. Probably.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I volunteer myself,” he said, strategically covering the front of his pants.

“Don’t worry,” Izza said, gesturing at his hands. “I like you too much to emasculate you.”

Remus put a hand over his heart. “If I had any idea you felt that way, I would’ve have gotten you alone in a classroom long before now,” he joked.

“And here I was, thinking you’d come to make me _talk._ You devil, Remus Lupin, taking advantage of a poor little foreign girl,” she teased. Remus just grinned; he was having some success, he knew. Izza’s shoulders were a little less tense, and she had uncrossed her arms.

“I did come to talk,” he said, more seriously. “If you want to.”

“I don’t want to.” She met his gaze dead on, with those eldritch violet-blue eyes of hers. Remus wondered, not for the first time, who or what could ever melt the ice queen. The depths of her eyes were unfathomable; Remus couldn’t tell if she was still angry or what.

“I just want to get on with my life,” she added, standing up, her heels snapping together with a click of finality.

“Well, you know I’m always here if you need to talk,” Remus said. He nearly reached out to squeeze her shoulder, but stopped himself just in time. Izza was not one to appreciate random, uninvited invasions of her personal space. “I thought you might like someone who’s not your best friend of many years to talk to. You know, a different perspective, and all that.”

Izza’s gaze hadn’t wavered and to Remus’ immense surprise, she reached out and put her arms around him. As in she _hugged_ him. It was all he could do to return the hug and not fall over from the shock. Her hair was like silk beneath his hands and the scent of milk and honey invaded his senses.

“I appreciate it, Remus, really. You’re a good listener, even if I’m not actually saying anything.”

“Glad to help,” he said. He was a bit unsure _how_ exactly he’d helped, but a win was a win, he supposed.

* * *

The rest of the week passed slowly and sombrely. No one could quite forget what had happened to Finn Macleod, and his return to classes on Thursday served as a reminder to everyone that the person or people who had beat him to within an inch of his life was still among them.

However, a small bright spot appeared on Friday night, at dinner, when Professor Dumbledore announced that, after careful deliberation, the professors had decided to go ahead with their planned Christmas event. They had debated scrapping the whole thing after what happened to Finn, but had changed their minds after a lot of thought.

“In light of what happened on Halloween,” Dumbledore had said, “We feel it is more important than ever to promote House unity, and get everyone involved in whole school activities. As such, we have decided to go ahead with a formal event, celebrating the life of the most famous name in our history - Merlin. It will be held on the last night of term before Christmas holidays, and dress robes will be required. Anyone wishing to help with the organisation of activities and decoration should see either a professor, or the Head Boy or Girl.”

“Dress robes!” Peter groaned. “That means more bloody formal dancing. Don’t they understand that I don’t like prancing around like a swot?”

“What, you mean more than you usually do?” Sirius asked, which made everyone laugh.

“Do you reckon we have to find partners?” Marlene asked.

“Dumbledore said each House would be delivered more information in the next couple of days,” James answered with a shrug.

Lily ate her dinner in silence. She wasn’t sure a formal was an overly good idea, considering what had happened on Halloween, but looking around, she could see that people looked genuinely excited, and who was she to begrudge them some simple pleasures in such depressing times?

To her left, Izza was having a playful argument with Sirius. Lily smiled ever so slightly as Izza told Black ‘not to take that tone with her’ and waved a hand dramatically. Lily still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened earlier in the week, with those letters, but she was glad that Izza wasn’t letting it get her down. She seemed more like herself, Lily thought, watching her friend throw her head back and laugh as Sirius pulled his best stupid faces.

Quite suddenly however, Sirius stiffened and the easy smile that had been on his lips dropped into a sharp frown. “What do you want?” he snapped, talking over Izza’s head.

“None of your business, Black,” another voice drawled, from behind Lily.

She turned slowly. She would know Severus’ voice anywhere, but that didn’t make facing him any easier. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Izza turn, too.

Lily caught his eye, but he looked away quickly. He didn’t meet Izza’s cold stare, either, instead looking down, his hair swinging forward so his face was partially obscured. However, to everyone’s surprise, he addressed Izza. “I have something for you.”   


	7. Chapter Six: Sympathy for the Devil

_ CHAPTER SIX: SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL _

* * *

 

“Excuse me?” Izza said, after a long pause, absolute disbelief colouring her tone.

Snape’s jaw clenched, and the look on his face suggested he didn’t want to repeat himself. “I don’t have time for this, Moldovan,” he snapped. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out an envelope, which he held out to Izza. “Take it, so I can be done with you all.” He waved the letter impatiently, and Izza took it from him, unveiled contempt detailed in the arch of her brow. Lily stared at him hard; she wanted to ask what he was doing, why he was playing messenger to a Gryffindor and who that letter was from, but Snape turned on his heel and stalked away, without looking at her once.

Izza turned back to the table, turning the letter over in her hands. Everyone was staring at her warily, unsure, after last time, of how she would react.

“Could you all stop looking at me like that?” she said absently, her fingers playing with the wax seal. She looked like she wanted to open it, but didn’t at the same time, for fear of what she’d find.

Lily watched her just as apprehensively as everyone else, but Izza simply stuffed the letter into the pocket of her robes and picked up her knife and fork, as casually as if Snape had just hand-delivered the morning paper. Lily glanced over at James and Sirius. The latter shrugged and followed Izza’s suit, and after a moment’s pause, all the others did too. If Izza was going to ignore it, then it was probably better not to antagonise her. They all knew it was just better to let Izza be, and she would be much happier.

Lily chanced a look over her shoulder at the Slytherin table. Severus was sitting with his head down and his back to her, between Avery and Evan Rosier. A small pit of anxiety settled deep in her stomach as she looked at the Slytherins. What game was Snape playing?

“So, Pete,” James began, in an obvious attempt to distract everyone, “What’s going on with Adina Shepherd?” He levelled his fork across the table at his friend, a wicked grin developing.

Peter looked up, open mouthed and clearly shocked, and then blushed deep red. “How’d you know about Adina?”

James shrugged. “She might’ve been looking for you earlier this week, and it might’ve slipped my mind until just right now when I decided I needed to tease you about it.”  
Peter rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Prongs.”

Sirius was smirking in a way that told Lily that Peter was in for a real ribbing, probably over several days and possibly even weeks. “We hear she’s got a twin, too. You’ve done well,” he said teasingly, using ‘we’ as if he and James were some pair of evil twins born to create havoc and mischief - which they were, in Lily’s opinion.

Peter was shaking his head and caught Lily’s eye briefly. She smiled apologetically - there was no way she was getting in the middle of this. Izza’s chin was down, a smirk on her lips, and Mary and Marlene were watching raptly, waiting for gossip.

“We’re just friends,” Peter said firmly, “and I’ve never met her sister.”

James and Sirius exchanged glances. Lily shook her head - sometimes, she could almost believe that Black and Potter could communicate telepathically.

“Peeeter,” James wheedled, dragging out the name. “It’s us, your best mates. You can tell us.”

Peter looked exasperated, but in an almost indulgent, amused sort of way. “I am telling you. We’re in the same study group for Muggle Studies. Her mum’s a Muggle, so she helps me out when I get stuck.” He spread his hands helplessly. “And that’s it.”

Izza was frowning now, as though she was trying to remember something. “Wait,” she said, holding up a long finger, “ _Who_ is Adina Shepherd?”

“She’s a Hufflepuff. A sixth year, right?” Lily said, looking to Peter, who nodded in confirmation, his face still blazing, especially now that Izza was involved.

Izza still looked blank, so Lily angled her shoulders and pointed Adina out as subtly as she could. Izza raised a skeptical brow. “Is she new?”

Lily laughed and shook her head. “She’s been here for five years, Iz.”

“I can honestly say I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

Lily laughed again as Izza shrugged arrogantly and continued. “It just means she’s never annoyed me enough to warrant my notice,” she said, patting Peter’s hand comfortingly.

“Or dated a boy you wanted,” Marlene put in casually, and everyone laughed, including Izza.

“So, do you like her?” Mary asked, and they all looked back to Peter, who apparently had thought that they were finished with him. He flushed again and seemed to shrink away from their scrutiny.

“Maybe,” he muttered, looking at his plate as though he saw something fascinating there. James and Sirius cheered and high-fived, drawing stares from other students in the vicinity.

“Great!” Marlene cried. “Ask her to the Merlin ball.”

“W-what?” Peter spluttered, looking horrified. He put his fork down with a clatter. “No - no, I can’t. What if she says no? I don’t even know if she’s seeing someone or not -”

“I sense a project,” Mary said, cutting Peter off with a clap of her hands. “Don’t worry, Pete, we’ll devise a plan that will have her begging to go with you within a fortnight,” she said enthusiastically, looking at the other girls for agreement.

For his part, Peter looked appropriately nervous.

* * *

 

Izza sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the letter. It had taken a while to work up the steel to open it in the first place, and now that she had, she dearly wished she hadn’t.

_If you want to know your family’s secrets, follow the map. This Satur_ _day, 5 PM._

And there was a map, hand drawn and very precise, which showed the outskirts of Hogsmeade and the wildwood beyond it. A thin red line snaked down through the back streets of the town and followed a trail deep into the woods to a small clearing, which was marked by a cross.

 _X marks the spot,_ Izza thought wryly.  

She was starting to think this might actually be serious and not some weird prank. But, if it was serious, then what the hell did Snape have to do with it? How could he possibly know anything about her or her family? She supposed Lily could have said something, back when she and Snape were friends… but even then, that would hardly make it a secret, would it? That would mean that it was something Izza didn’t hold close to her. And if it wasn’t a prank, then what was the purpose in luring her out of school?

A prickling sense of trepidation made the tiny, fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her family kept secrets for a reason; she felt sure nothing good could come of this.

She was toying with the idea of showing the other girls. It went against all her instincts, against everything that had ever been drummed into her by her grandparents. A Moldovan needs _no one_ , her grandfather would say to her. It was this thought that sealed her decision - she wanted other perspectives, and advice. She almost smiled as she got up on her knees - Remus would be proud of her. She pulled back the hangings around her bed and glanced around the dorm. Mary was helping Marlene paint the nails of her right hand and Lily was digging through the drawer of her bedside table.

“Girls,” she said quietly, and they all looked up at her immediately. “Could you come here?” Almost in unison, the eyes of her friends slid to the letter in her hand.

They looked surprised, and she didn’t blame them. She didn’t exactly make a habit of sharing. Nevertheless, they jumped up and came to sit on her bed. Marlene was waving her hand through the air, trying to dry her nails.

Silently, Izza showed them the letter and the map. She also let them the see the first letter she had received, and then sat back and waited for them to say something. The second note, of course, was a pile of ash in the fireplace.

“You’re not thinking about going, right?” Lily said eventually, her green eyes scanning the map.

Izza shrugged and made a non-committal noise. Lily looked up at her in disbelief.

“Are you insane?”

Izza frowned, her posture becoming defensive. “I sincerely hope not.”

“Well you’re insane if you go. What if this is some sort of Death Eater trick, to lure you out of school? Snape delivered it, for Merlin’s sake. He runs in a crowd full of wannabe Death Eaters!” Lily was vehement, her hand gestures becoming more extravagant. Izza had expected that much – Lily was headstrong and opinionated at the best of times. 

“I’m not scared,” Izza said, a hint of defiance in her tone.

Marlene went to run her hands through her hair, but stopped just in time as she remembered her nails. She looked Izza in the eye. “Maybe you should be. It’s all very suspicious, Iz.”

Izza was starting to feel angry now - had they forgotten who she was? She wasn’t afraid of anything; and the more anonymous notes she received, the angrier she got. That fury burned in her gut. “I can take care of myself. I want to know who the hell thinks they know anything about my family.”

“We’re not going,” Lily said firmly.

Izza stared at her; it was a heated, furious look. “No, _you’re_ not going. But I am. I want to know. I’m not asking you to put yourselves in any kind of danger.”

“But you want us to let you go and potentially put yourself in danger?” Mary said. Her voice was calm, but her face was giving off stress cues; a line had appeared between her brows, and her lips were losing colour.

“I am _not_ asking any of your permissions. I wanted to include you like you always beg me to, but I will not be told what I can and can’t do,” Izza snapped, savagely. This was why she kept so much to herself – the disappointment of others was always a bitter pill to swallow.

Mary opened her mouth to retort, but stopped when Lily picked up the map and the two letters and stood up. “Get up,” she said to the girls. They looked at her questioningly, and Lily’s expression suggested she thought she held a trump card. “We’ll see what the boys have to say about this, huh?” If Izza wanted to keep this from the boys, Lily figured she’d have to agree not to go. She was counting on Izza’s innate instinct for privacy. Plus, the Marauders were protective over their own, and, however misguidedly, they seemed to think the Gryffindor girls were theirs to protect.   

Izza’s expression was cool, but determined, as she met her best friend’s eyes. Her left brow, the more mobile of the two, arched defiantly. “Fine,” she said, gesturing for Lily to go ahead. “We’ll see, shall we?”

The four girls traipsed down the stairs to their dorm, Lily leading with way with heavy, angry footsteps, and then back up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. They could hear voices from within the room and Lily knocked sharply. There was a pause in the conversation inside, then footsteps and moments later, James appeared at the door.

“Lily!” he cried, his surprise obvious. He pushed his glasses back up his nose, looked at someone over his shoulder, then grinned and stood back to let them in. “I knew you were warming up to me.”

“Dream on, Potter,” Lily said curtly, brushing past him and striding over to where Sirius was lounging on his bed, one knee bent and his arm angled behind his head. Of all of them, he would be the most likely to attempt to stop Izza, and maybe the most likely to succeed. She thrust the letters and the map at him.

He blinked and reached out slowly, taking the papers from Lily. A look of slight surprise coloured his handsome face. “What’s this?” he asked, his mercury grey gaze sliding to Izza, who was leaning, arms crossed and defiant, against the doorframe.

“Just read it,” Lily ordered. The other three boys looked on in interest; James even kneeled on Sirius’ bed and read over his shoulder. 

Sirius looked up at Izza again, and this time his brows pulled together worriedly. She met his gaze and stared back expressionlessly. James passed the papers to Remus and Peter.

“Are we all up to speed?” Lily asked, not bothering to wait for any answers. “Izza thinks she’s actually going to go meet the psychopath who sent this. Mary, Marlene and I were hoping you lot could talk some sense into her. Or at least, forcibly prevent her from going.”

James was keeping his face carefully neutral. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose again. “Izza, what if it’s a Death Eater trap? Everyone knows that Voldemort is afraid of Dumbledore…but that doesn’t mean his followers won’t try and lure people out of school.” James asked, virtually mirroring Lily’s earlier words.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, looking from girl to girl. “What if you go and then just disappear, like Esther Collins?”

Izza said nothing, but her jaw was set, and Lily recognised the steely look in her eyes. She wouldn’t listen to reason, and she was impossibly stubborn once she’d made her mind up.  

“Iz, you can’t do this,” Sirius implored her. “You can’t go into this kind of situation blind. You’ll get yourself hurt.” He stood and took a step towards her, reaching his hand out to her, but something in her expression stopped him and his arm dropped heavily through the tense air.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I want to get my hands on the person who’s messing with me.” Izza’s voice was cold, but it rose at the end of her sentence as she attempted to keep a handle on her temper.

Sirius looked hopelessly at James, turning his palms outward in a kind of ‘I don’t know’ expression.

“Well,” James said slowly. It seemed like he wasn’t quite willing to risk the wrath of either Izza or Lily and was scrambling for middle ground. “There’s only one thing to do, then, isn’t there?”

“And what’s that?” Lily asked, skeptical.

“She can’t go alone. So we’ll go with her.” James looked almost pleased with himself.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Izza huffed, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s like I’m living with seven versions of my brother,” she muttered.

“That’s ridiculous,” Marlene said loudly, over the sounds of Izza fuming. “No one should be going at all.”

Lily, too, was livid. “I know you boys think you’re invincible -”

“Evans, shut up,” Sirius interrupted her, his eyes still on Izza. He, at least, looked troubled by the whole situation. James was looking increasingly exhilarated, like he was anticipating a challenge. Lily couldn’t believe him - didn’t he understand that this could be a really dangerous situation that he was proposing they walk into?

“There is not a thing any of you can say that will change my mind on this,” Izza said, matter-of-factly. She looked at Sirius as she spoke, but her words went out to all of them.

“If this is something that Izza has to do, then we’ll be there to keep her safe,” Remus said, and the other boys nodded. Lily scowled at him - she’d counted on Remus at least, to be a voice of reason.

They talked for a little longer, before the girls retreated back to their own dorm, and a cool silence had enveloped them. Izza had an air of triumph about her, but a distinct annoyance, too. Lily was just plain annoyed. She couldn’t believe the boys were playing along with this - Potter was supposed to be Head Boy, for Merlin’s sake, and bloody Remus! Lily thought he at least would be smarter than that.

When Lily slammed her trunk lid shut, Izza jumped visibly. She pondered Lily for a long moment – Lily could see her staring out of the corner of her eye.

“Lily,” she said eventually, coming over to sit on the edge of Lily’s bed. She tucked one long leg underneath her, and wrapped her arms around herself. “Lily, I’ll be fine,” she continued, when Lily didn’t answer.

Lily threw her robes down on the bed and looked at Izza. “You have a pack of idiots for ‘protection.’ You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

“They’re not idiots. Not all the time.” Izza conceded the last with a small smile. “And I was thinking…”

“Uh oh,” Lily muttered. Here it came; the request for help with that coercive look on that beautiful face of hers, which would make it impossible to say no.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so in the dark if you did something for me.”

There it was. Lily jerked her head up and frowned. “Should I be worried?”

Izza looked at her hands. “I was thinking maybe you’d talk to Snape for me. Ask him who gave him the letter. You’re the only one he’ll give the time of day. Please?”

Lily was already shaking her head. “No. No, he’s not my friend anymore, Izza. He won’t tell me anything.”

Izza stood and put her hands on Lily’s shoulder, fixing her with an intense, blue eyed gaze. “He will. Lily, you don’t see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking.” Izza made a disgusted face. “He doesn’t hate you; he’s _obsessed_ with you.”

Lily looked away, Izza’s words rolling over and over in her head, stinging like a sharp stab to the back of the neck. “Fine,” she said eventually. “Fine, I’ll try to talk to him. I’m not making any promises, though.”

Izza smiled so genuinely that Lily felt the corners of her own lips pull up automatically. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I love you Evans.”

After that, Izza went to bed. Lily climbed into her own bed, her head spinning from all that had happened. She was nervous and her stomach churned unpleasantly, as she thought about confronting Severus. So much had changed - he had changed. He wasn’t the same person who had been her friend. She didn’t even know who he was anymore.

* * *

 

Lily paced the Entrance Hall nervously, completely unable to stay still at that point, not even to save her own life if it had come to that. It was not long until lunch and she was waiting for Severus.

How was she supposed to do this, she wondered? She had barely spoken to Severus in a year, and until that very moment, she’d had no intention of changing that. He was no longer the same person he had been years ago when they were children; he ran with a crowd of people, who, apart from being unpleasant in every sense of the word, were capable of _anything_ , from what Lily had seen and heard. She hoped he would be on his own, as she didn’t feel particularly like trying to extricate him from his ‘ _friends.’_

The minutes ticked by, and Lily continued to pace anxiously. She was beginning to think that it would be just her luck if Severus had decided to skip lunch that day. But then, finally, he emerged from the hall down to the dungeons and, mercifully, he was alone.

He did a double take when he saw her waiting and glanced around, before stopping, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her.

“I need to speak to you,” she said.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” He was already on the defensive – that really wasn’t a good sign.

Lily crossed her arms, but then uncrossed them again immediately, trying not to seem standoffish. “I’m serious. Can we go somewhere private?”

Severus looked briefly at the doors of the Great Hall, then back in the direction of the dungeons. Finally, he nodded. “Whatever you say, _Head Girl,_ ” he said derisively. 

Lily led him to the closest unoccupied classroom. She opened the door and he pushed in past her (so much for ladies first). He leant awkwardly against a desk and she paced, still too agitated to be still. His expression was unreadable, his hair hanging forward, too long for her liking. Her stomach was in knots. What a shit predicament it was - she hoped Izza damn well appreciated it.

“About last night, with that letter you gave to Izza -”

Severus raised a dark brow, succeeding in one small move to make her feel about six inches tall. “What about it?” he drawled.

“Who was it from? Who gave it to you?”

“What makes you think I’d tell _you_ that?” he sneered.

Lily released a stream of breath in a frustrated huff. She felt exhausted, and, in that moment, she would have given anything for the understanding she used to have with Severus. There were still some days she missed the friend he had been, but now there was just anger at the person he had become, instead of pain at the loss. “Look, Sev, I didn’t come here to fight. I came to protect a friend. If Izza is in any kind of danger…”   

He considered her with dark eyes for a long time. Eventually, he waved a hand in a gesture of concession. “I was in Hogsmeade -” he shot her sharp look “- and before you ask, no, I’m not going to tell you why I was in Hogsmeade. I was in the Hogs Head with Jared, and this -” Severus broke off, frowning.

“What? Keep going,” Lily urged.

“This woman approached us. She was with… a friend. Someone we knew.” Lily would bet her last Galleon, judging by the way he said that, that the ‘someone’ was a Death Eater.

Severus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then continued. “She asked us to deliver the letter to Moldovan. Then they were gone as quickly as they came. We didn’t get to ask questions.”

“What did she look like?” Lily asked, her voice soft. She didn’t know why, but she felt like she should whisper.

He hesitated. “She was tall and blonde. And young-looking. I didn’t really get a chance to look at her properly.”

Lily mused on that a while. A Death Eater and a mystery lady. She didn’t like this at all.

“Lily,” Severus hedged, using her first name for the first time in what felt like ages. It felt strangely intimate, in a way that made her deeply uncomfortable. “You can’t tell Moldovan what I just told you.”

Lily stared at him in disbelief. “Why the hell do you think I’m here for - it’s certainly not for the scintillating conversation, is it? I don’t want Izza to go, especially now I know your little Death Eater friends have their hands in this.”

Several emotions worked across Severus’ face, though the most dominant was anger. “I didn’t have to tell you what I just did! Now I’m asking you for something. If this - the fact that I told you anything at all - gets back to certain people, it’ll all come down on my head. I know you’re going to tell her no matter what, so I’m asking you to just…bend the truth a little bit.”

Lily was confused. “But -”

Severus held up a hand. “Tell her that the woman’s face was concealed. Tell her I couldn’t see anything.”

Lily didn’t like the way this was going at all. She didn’t want to have to choose between her current loyalty to Izza and her previous friendship with Severus. Despite what had happened, those years of friendship couldn’t be erased in the blink of an eye, and she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. But if she protected Severus, and Izza wound up hurt, how could she ever forgive herself?

* * *

 

Due to their different timetables, Lily didn’t see Izza until later that afternoon, when the Gryffindors headed back to the tower to drop off their books before dinner. They lagged together, letting the other girls get ahead of them. Lily could see that Izza was on edge - she kept running her hand through her hair and twisting the ring on the middle finger of her right hand around and around.

When the last few stragglers disappeared around the corner up ahead, Izza turned to Lily. “Come on, Lils, put me out of my misery,” she said, with a half-smile.

Lily looked around, to make sure there wasn’t anyone around them who could listen in. She felt positively wretched. It was a bit like in the years before she and Severus had fallen out - Lily felt pulled in two directions, and either way, she knew someone was getting hurt. Except this time the stakes were so much higher - it could be a matter of life and death. She knew she could never live with herself if anything happened to Izza, but she also couldn’t wholly ignore the instinct to protect Severus, despite the breakdown of their friendship. She’d agonised all afternoon over what to do, and still wasn’t sure what was right.

Now that she was faced with making the decision, she decided to just to go with what she was feeling.

“I asked him. He, ah, thought it was a woman.”

Izza looked confused. “ _Thought?_ ” she repeated.

Lily nodded, steeling herself. “He didn’t see her face.”

Izza waved her hands theatrically. “Back up, Evans. Start from the beginning.”

Lily couldn’t believe she was actually going to do it. She sent a quick prayer, hoping that protecting Severus was the right thing to do. “It was someone who covered their face completely. Severus said they asked him to deliver the letter and left before he could ask any questions.”

Izza was frowning, like things didn’t add up. Lily sent a second prayer - that Izza wouldn’t catch her in a half-truth. “Wait, ‘they?’ Who is ‘they?’”

“Severus was with Avery. And the woman was with someone they both knew.”

Izza’s frown deepened. “A Death Eater.”

Lily nodded. “He wouldn’t say as much, but I’d best my last Galleon.”

Izza muttered something that sounded like _‘Shit_ _,’_ but also might have been a far more colourful Romanian swear word under her breath. Lily took her opportunity. “Please tell me you’re not going to go.”

Izza looked away. “I don’t know.” She shot Lily a sharp look. “Don’t start on me.”

Lily bit her tongue with great difficulty. That wasn’t the reaction she’d wanted from Izza. She’d wanted a concrete, ‘ _No, Lily, I won’t go mee_ _t a potential Death Eater in the middle of a forest.’_ Maybe she could tell the boys… maybe they could stop Izza. But then, of course, there was always the chance that they would just view it as a challenge. It could so easily go either way with the Marauders. Plus she’d already risked Izza’s wrath once by grassing on her to the boys.

They remained silent the whole way back to the tower. Lily didn’t really know what to say anymore and her insides were in knots.

* * *

Saturday came far too quickly for Lily’s liking, and Izza still hadn’t ruled out going to meet the letter writer. Much to Lily’s frustration, the Marauders were staunchly behind Izza, no matter what she chose. Only Mary and Marlene agreed with Lily, and three on five wasn’t great odds, in Lily’s opinion.

Additionally, Saturday was Gryffindors’ second Quidditch match of the season, against Slytherin, and everyone expected it to be grudge match of huge proportions. Lily had thought this might put the Marauders off going to the trouble of sneaking out of school that evening, but on the contrary, they were thankful for the game being that day. When Gryffindor won - and they _would_ win, according to James - the inevitable celebrations would provide a good cover for the group, as they attempted to slip away. Lily had tried to point out that the Gryffindors might miss their Captain and Beater, but James was convinced that everyone would be so happy that Slytherin had lost, that they wouldn’t notice them disappearing for a couple of hours.

And so, Lily had to resign herself to the fact that they were, in fact, going.

She couldn’t concentrate on the game. It was a little closer than the game between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had been, but in the end, James’ team won convincingly. Lily spent most of the match distracted by Izza, who sat next to her, spinning her ring around and around on her finger. That, at least, was one way Lily could know she was nervous too.

As it turned out, James was right about the after-party providing good cover for them. The four boys and four girls (Mary and Marlene had insisted they not be left out) walked straight through the crowded common room and out the portrait hole, without a problem. People patted the boys on the back and congratulated them, but no one asked where they were going. Lily couldn’t quite believe their luck.

It wasn’t curfew yet, so they all relaxed a little once they were outside the Gryffindor tower. The Marauders were uncharacteristically businesslike - they wasted no time leading the girls down to the third floor. They came to a halt in front of the statue of the humpbacked witch. The girls knew about the passageway it concealed - the Marauders had told them, but sworn them to secrecy. They didn’t want their favourite secret tunnel clogged with students.

Lily was the second last to enter the tunnel - only James was behind her. Up ahead, she could hear Izza speaking to someone, too quietly for her to hear. In the darkness, she nearly slipped, but James caught her elbows at the last minute, keeping her upright.

“Thanks,” she muttered, shrugging him off.

They crept through Honeydukes two at a time. The shop was already closed, so they had to be as quiet as they could manage. Soon enough, the whole group was standing on the main street of Hogsmeade. Lily drew her cloak around herself - there was a certain bite in the air that said winter was drawing closer.

Sirius and Izza were looking at the map she had been sent. The former looked up at the rest of the group and said, “Come on. We’re not going to be done before sunset, but I don’t want to be on the streets any longer than necessary.”

Sirius and James lead them through the back streets of Hogsmeade with practiced ease - Lily was sure they’d explored every inch of the town and its surrounds, judging by how well they seemed to know it - though both had their wands out. The sun was rapidly sinking towards the horizon and they would soon need to light their way, but Lily was pretty convinced that wasn’t the only reason for the drawn wands. She followed suit - those boys were more intelligent, more aware than she gave them credit for sometimes.

Eventually, the little cottages on the outskirts of Hogsmeade gave way to the wildwood. There was a small gap in the trees and the ground there was flattened, as if by feet. Lily supposed this was the trail that they were supposed to follow. She shivered; the path was so small, so forgotten-looking.

She didn’t know what the others were thinking, but they had all stopped to look at the trail too.

“Is that it?” Mary asked.

“Sure is,” Izza said. She drew her wand and started forward, all but disappearing from view as she stepped into the shadows of the trees. Sirius hurried after her, catching her shoulder to make her wait for him. Lily had never seen such a protective side to him.

The other boys and Mary followed them. Lily paused when she realised Marlene hadn’t moved. She was staring at the place where the others had melted into the shadows, her face drained of colour.

“Come on,” Lily coaxed.

Marlene turned her pale blue eyes on Lily - they were wide and frightened. “I don’t like it, Lily,” she said tremulously. Lily went to her side and put an arm around her waist. “It doesn’t feel right,” she added in a whisper. “I don’t like the dark.”

Lily didn’t really like the darkness either, but she pulled Marlene forward anyway. She didn’t want to lose the rest of the group and end up alone. 

The wildwood was eerily quiet - there seemed to be very little noise, other than their footsteps on the dirt. Lily thought it was strange that there weren’t any animals about. Her skin felt cold, despite her warm cloak. Everything about the situation felt so incredibly wrong.

They walked for what felt like hours. Less and less light filtered through the trees as they pushed deeper, though it was difficult to tell if this was because the sun was setting or the trees were thickening, or both. The cold feeling deepened - Lily felt chilled right down to her bones, and she was tempted to turn everyone around and force them to go home. She wasn’t too proud to admit she was afraid.

Up ahead, Sirius and Izza had come to a dead stop. Lily realised why just a moment later; the path they were on split into two even smaller trails which diverged away from the apex of the fork, where Sirius and Izza were standing. The pair were looking at the map, trying to decide which was the correct path.

“I swear to Merlin, if you get us lost, I’ll kill you both,” Marlene threatened, her voice rising.

“We’re not lost,” Izza said, staring at the forked path thoughtfully.

“What’s that?” Remus asked suddenly, pointing at a tree branch, which was hanging low across the path to the right. Something red was tangled in the twigs, waving lazily whenever a slight breeze blew.

Izza handed the map to Sirius and went to the branch. She reached up and untangled the red material, then turned back to them. They watched in silence as she turned the material over in her hands and all the colour drained from her face.

“What is it?” There was a catch of concern in Sirius’ voice, and he took a half step forward.

Wordlessly, Izza handed the ribbon - it was silky, and definitely a ribbon, Lily could see now - to Sirius. As he looked at it, a deep frown appeared on his handsome face.

Lily went over to stand next to Sirius and have a look for herself. She could see that the word _‘_ _Isidora’_ followed by the numbers _‘13.02.60’_ had been embroidered onto the red material. She looked up at Izza.

“My grandmother made that for me the day I was born,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “She always said that when I grew up, I would have my father’s hair, and that red looks the most striking with my hair colour. I used to wear it nearly every day, but I thought…” she broke off, frowning as though she was trying to remember something.

“What?” James prompted.

Izza looked up at him. “I thought it got lost when we moved. It’s been years.” She looked troubled. Lily felt a chill run down her spine.

Sirius was still looking at the ribbon. James rubbed his hands together and looked around the group. “It must be some sort of signal,” he said. “Should we go that way?”

Everyone nodded (though some, like Marlene, did so grudgingly) and they continued on down the right fork of the trail. This section of the path seemed a lot shorter than the first and, quicker than Lily had anticipated, they were stepping out from the dark woods, into a small, moonlit clearing. It was empty.

“What now?” Peter asked. Izza shrugged when they all looked to her.

“We wait, I guess,” Sirius said, rolling up the map and putting it in the pocket of his robes.

They did wait. The minutes ticked by, until Lily realised they’d been standing around in the clearing for nearly an hour. She had the distinct, prickling feeling that they were being watched, but she told herself she was just being paranoid.

“Well, this was anti-climactic,” Mary sighed.  

Lily barely heard this, for she was watching Izza. The brunette had stiffened quite suddenly, and was peering into the trees. Remus had noticed too; he stepped forward and put a hand on Izza’s arm.

“What is it?” Lily heard him murmur. Sirius lifted his wand, his eyes searching the darkness where Izza was looking with the limited glow of the wand-tip.

“I thought I… never mind.” Izza shook her head and turned away. “I’m cold. Let’s go home.”

The others (especially Marlene) looked relieved. Mary linked her arm with Lily’s, and they began to follow James and Peter back the way they came. Marlene and Remus were right behind them. Lily glanced over her shoulders - Izza was looking into the trees once more.

Izza could hear the others leaving, but she couldn’t drag her eyes from the dark space between the trees. She could have sworn she saw something move between the trunks.

Sirius reached out and took Izza’s wrist gently. That got her attention, and she looked down at his long fingers. She couldn’t even put into words how grateful she was for everything he had done for her in the past few days. He had so easily accepted that she needed to find out who was behind the letters and _why_ _._ He hadn’t tried to talk her out of it, despite his obvious reservations. And now, with his warm fingers wrapped around her wrist, she felt… safe. He had that effect on her.

“Come on, love. You’re freezing - let’s go to the Three Broomsticks and get some Firewhiskey into you.”

“That sounds like a plan,” she said. She let him drop an arm around her shoulders and they followed the others back up the trail. She put one hand in her pocket, and she could feel the silky material of the ribbon. The sudden reappearance of the childhood memento worried her more than anything, really. How had they (whoever ‘they’ were) gotten hold of it? And, more importantly, if they could get that, what else could they get? How far into her life could they reach?

“We’ll figure it out, Iz. You realise that for anyone to get to you, they have to go through seven other people first?”

Izza felt a smile on the corners of her lips. Sirius was such a sweetheart, underneath everything else. “I know. But now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m really craving that Firewhiskey.”

Sirius grinned. “We better get a move on, then. I know what you’re like when you don’t get what you want.” 


	8. Chapter Seven: Mudbloods and Marauders

_ CHAPTER SEVEN: MUDBLOODS AND MARAUDERS _

* * *

 

_Crash._

And then...shouting. Lily lifted her head, rubbing her sleep heavy eyes. Who was yelling? She groaned and rolled her head back, massaging her neck and trying to get the kinks out. Falling asleep on her Transfiguration textbook, in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, with her head at an odd angle, probably hadn’t been the smartest idea.

More shouting. Lily looked around the common room. She couldn’t see Izza or Marlene or Mary, or any of the Marauders. She glanced at her watch; it made sense that Potter and Black, at least, weren’t around - James had scheduled a training session for his Quidditch team, so they would still be out on the Quidditch pitch, doing whatever it was they did at training.

As the haze of sleep lifted slowly, Lily realised the shouting was coming from the boys’ dormitory. Other students were starting to notice the commotion and a few sixth year boys stood hesitantly, clearly wondering if they should go see what was going on.

_Crash._

Something was broken, that was for sure. Izza appeared at the top of the girl’s staircase, tousled-haired and livid-looking.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” she shouted down to Lily. “They’ve interrupted my nap.”

Lily could only shrug. Izza descended the girls’ stairs, then stormed straight up the boys’ stairs. Lily followed her; the noise was coming from the seventh years’ dormitory. Izza threw the door open - which was brave, Lily thought, as you could come across anything in the boys’ room - and the shouting ceased briefly. Lily went in after her, and looked around the room. It looked like a bomb had gone off; clothes and books and stuff was strewn everywhere. Someone had turned the room upside down. The four boys stood in the middle of the mess, looking up at the girls expectantly.

“What, in Merlin’s sweet name, are you lot doing?” Izza demanded. “And why are you doing it so _loudly?_ ”

“Yeah, don’t you have Quidditch training or something?” Lily asked.

“My broomstick is missing,” Sirius snapped, kicking a copy of _Advanced Transfiguration_. The book skittered across the floor. “I put it in the broom shed this morning, ready for training, and now it’s gone.”

“What, it’s been stolen?” Lily asked, frowning.

“It’s not here, and it’s not in the shed, so I’d say yes, someone has purposefully taken it,” Sirius said condescendingly.

“Why?” Izza asked, perching on the edge of Sirius’ bed. It was as messy as the rest of the room, leaving her very little room to sit.

Lily thought that was a good question. Sirius’ broom was nice, but Lily knew for a fact that a couple of kids housed top-of-the-range brooms in the shed. It had always been a safe place to store brooms - until now, apparently.

“It had to have been personal,” James said - clearly he was thinking along the same lines as Lily. “No other brooms were taken.” James turned to Sirius. “Have you pissed anyone off lately?”

The corner of Izza’s mouth twitched at that. Sirius thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t get a chance to annoy anyone - my favourite pranking partner is too busy playing _Head Boy_.” Sirius spat out the words ‘Head Boy’ as though they were filth.

James rolled his eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. If you haven’t annoyed anyone lately, then maybe it’s someone with an old grudge.”

Sirius pulled a face. “Wow, I wonder who that could be?” he said, sarcastically.

“It’s so pointless and petty, though,” Remus pointed out.

Lily made a noise in her throat before she could stop herself, and James and Sirius looked at her, the latter frowning as though he couldn’t figure out why she was there in the first place. “When have any of the stupid jokes you played on Snape not been pointless or petty?” she asked, lifting her chin defiantly. Sirius looked very much like he wanted to tell Lily to go jump off the Astronomy tower, but James put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be rude, Padfoot,” James said gently.

Izza stood up and drifted over to where Lily was standing. “I think that’s our cue to leave, Lily.”

James took half a step forward. “Lily, wait. I want to talk to you.”

Izza looked at Sirius, then back at Lily, who shrugged and gestured for Izza to go on without her. James followed Lily outside, shutting the door behind him. They stood on the landing and Lily shifted from foot to foot, feeling awkward.

“ _Muffliato,_ ” James muttered, in the direction of the door. He then turned to Lily and ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly. “Remember how I said we needed to keep our eyes and ears open?” 

Lily nodded, but she was confused - what did Sirius’ broom have to do with what had happened to Finn Macleod?

“I think it’s time you and I did a little digging,” James said, and there was almost a challenge in his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s pretty obvious, to me at least, who took Sirius’ broom. If we can find the weak link in the Slytherin group and put them between a rock and a hard place, we might get a little more back than just Sirius’ broom.”

Lily mused for a minute. She understood what James was saying - get what you want without actually coming out and asking for it. But she was nervous about her role in James’ plan - Izza had already used Lily once to get to Snape, and Lily really hadn’t enjoyed it. She hoped James wasn’t getting the same idea.

“Oh, and I’m sorry Sirius was snappy with you in there,” James added as an afterthought, frowning. “He’s been in a strange mood all week.”

“It’s okay, I guess,” Lily said, taken aback by James’ apology. “I’d probably be upset too in his situation.”

At breakfast the following morning, Lily avoided James’ gaze. They both had a free period straight after breakfast, but Lily wanted to work on a huge Potions essay that Slughorn had set. She didn’t want to traipse all over the castle with Potter, trying to find out who had taken Sirius’ broom. Thankfully, James seemed rather distracted, and hadn’t said much all morning to anyone, let alone bother her about issues of stolen broomsticks.

In fact, everyone seemed a little off. Even Marlene and Mary, who usually spent meal times chatting merrily, were silent. Sirius was stabbing moodily at his food without actually eating much of it.

“Let’s do something tomorrow night,” Izza said eventually, to no one in particular. “Let’s go to the pub, or something.”

There was a few non-committal shrugs. Izza looked pointedly at Sirius, her favourite drinking partner.

“I don’t really feel like it,” he said, pushing some scrambled egg around and around on his plate.

“Why?” Izza challenged. “Got something better to do? Do you have a date?”

“No, I-”

“Are you still seeing the _child_?” Izza interrupted, smirking.

“What child?” Marlene asked, looking up, confusion written all over her face.

“He’s been dating some fifth year,” Izza explained. She at least was enjoying herself that morning, teasing Sirius; that much was obvious.

Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his seat and ran a hand through his black hair. “I’m not _dating_ her.”

Izza and Marlene did a brilliant thing - they both raised their eyebrows at nearly the exact same moment. Sirius looked from girl to girl.

“Fine,” he conceded. “We may have hooked up a couple of times. But it’s nothing exclusive. She’s a bit too green for my liking.”

“She’s fifteen!” Lily put in, unable to hold her tongue any longer. “If you want someone _experienced,_ why are you hooking up with a fifteen-year-old?”

“I fail to see how it’s any of your business,” Sirius said, his tone acidic. “And you weren’t supposed to go and tell everyone,” he said to Izza. She gave him a supremely innocent look and blinked at him with those long, dark lashes of hers.

“Why, I thought the whole school knew? Your little girlfriend and her friends have practically formed a Sirius Black fan club. She’s a heartbeat away from tattooing your name on her butt.”

Sirius lifted his chin and fixed Izza with his haughtiest look. “No one deserves a fan club more than me,” he said imperiously, which made everyone laugh and lightened the mood a little.

“We can’t go out tomorrow night, anyway,” Lily informed Izza. “You lot are going to help with stuff for the Merlin ball.”

“Says who?” Mary asked indignantly.

“Says me,” Lily said, smirking as her friends groaned.

The group finished up their breakfast and headed off in their respective directions. Izza and Sirius were still teasing each other as they climbed the stairs in the Entrance Hall - it seemed as though she’d finally succeeded in cheering Black up a little - but Lily, who was rooting around in her bag for her Potions essay, didn’t notice that they’d left her behind. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand landed on her shoulder.

“Bloody hell, Potter, do you want me to have a heart attack?” she said, glaring at him reproachfully. He at least had the grace to look contrite.

“Sorry. But I know you’re going to try and dash off and avoid me.”

Lily bit her lip. “That was not my intention at all,” she lied. Of course it had been.

James laughed. “Yeah, right, Evans. I know you better than you think I do, and you’re not as difficult to read as you think you are.”

Lily scowled, but James was oblivious to her annoyance. “I was thinking we could meet up this afternoon and do a bit of… sleuthing.” His lips curled into a half smile at the word ‘sleuthing.’ “I scheduled a training session for tomorrow night, and my broom is already in the shed. With any luck, they’ll go after my broom too, and we can catch them red-handed.”

Lily barely heard any of the latter part of what James had said. “What do you mean, you scheduled a training session? You’re supposed to be helping with the Merlin ball!”

James looked momentarily taken aback, but then he just shrugged apologetically. “I can help _after_ training.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Bloody typical. No sense of responsibility…” She was muttering mostly to herself, but James’ brows still pulled together in a frown.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he said, following her as she began to climb the stairs. “I have plenty of responsibility. I have a responsibility to my Quidditch team, and that’s just as important as any of my other responsibilities.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Lily retorted, childishly. “I’ll just save the worst jobs for you,” she added, forcing the words out in the sweetest tones she could muster.

James stopped, shaking his head and smiling. He was going in the opposite direction to her, back to the common room. “Meet me in the common room at four thirty,” he called to her retreating form. She just waved vaguely and kept walking.

* * *

 

Lily met James at the designated time, albeit reluctantly. For his part, James was full of the bounding enthusiasm that usually possessed the Marauders whenever they were up to something. They would set out under the pretense of a quick patrol of the corridors and slip outside the first chance they got. Lily wasn’t looking forward to lurking around the broom shed - in fact, Lily didn’t think much of James’ plan at all. Still, she hadn’t been able to think of anything better...not that she’d tried too hard. She didn’t care too much about Black’s broom. 

Their trip through the castle was relatively uneventful, though they did stop to break up a fight between two second year girls who were bickering over who was the true owner of a hideous pink cardigan. One of the girls had resorted to hexing her friend into a boil covered mess; Lily took fifteen points apiece from Hufflepuff and sent them both to the hospital wing.

Soon enough, James and Lily were outside and approaching the broom shed. James unlocked it, casual as anything, and went inside. He emerged moments later, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

“My broom’s still in there,” he said, his tone pleased. “We just have to wait, I suppose.”

Lily groaned, but didn’t say anything. They hid behind the shed, so anyone approaching wouldn’t see them. Silence fell between them, which surprised Lily. Neither of them was exactly shy and reserved, and despite the way they fought, they usually found something to talk about when they absolutely had to.

As it turned out, they didn’t have to wait long. Lily was busy pushing back her cuticles when James stood up very straight, like a dog that had caught a scent. Seconds later, Lily could hear it too - voices, whispering urgently. James grabbed Lily’s arm and dragged her behind the trees that the shed backed onto.

“There’s no need to manhandle me,” Lily muttered, reproachfully. James just shot her an exasperated look.

“Don’t you think this is pushing it?” someone said, the sound of their voice floating towards where James and Lily were concealed.

They exchanged another look - that voice was so familiar. The speaker sounded very much like… well, _Sirius._

“Not really, no,” a second voice answered. This voice was deep, gravelly.

Two sets of footsteps stopped, and Lily held her breath. Then the second voice spoke again. “You know they deserve it. It’s just a little joke.”

“Would you two shut up?” a third voice hissed, and a third set of footsteps - softer than the first two - approached.

“Open the door, Sev.”

Lily watched as James’ shoulders tightened and his fists clenched. Instinctively, she put a hand on his shoulder and he met her eyes, his hazel irises sparking with anger. Thankfully, the moment was broken just seconds later, as they heard the door of the broom shed scrape open.

“Come on,” James murmured, setting his jaw and pulling out his wand.

Lily followed him around to the front of the shed and pulled out her own wand, as James pressed a finger to his lips and grasped the door handle silently. She held up three fingers and counted down for him and on zero, he threw the door open.

The three broomstick thieves stopped in their tracks and whirled around, wands out and pointed directly at James and Lily. Suddenly, two on three didn’t seem like such a good idea.

Lily’s eyes travelled from Regulus Black - that explained the familiarity of his voice - to Jared Avery and came to rest on Severus Snape. His presence surprised her more than anything - why was he doing this after she had protected him? Why was he trying to stir up trouble with James and Sirius? He knew Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore wouldn’t tolerate him going after the Gryffindors anymore, not after the fifth year incident.

“Potter,” Avery said with a nod. “Nice afternoon, isn’t it?”

“Don’t even start, Avery. Give me back Sirius’ broom and we’ll forget this happened.” James’ Head Boy badge was shining on his chest, and he had an air of authority about him that even Lily could respect.

Avery blinked at James and fixed him with an innocent stare. “What ever do you mean? We were just going for a fly, weren’t we, boys?”

Regulus nodded, but Severus just stared at Lily. She felt a heat blooming on her cheeks and wished he would look away. Finally, he looked at Avery, then at James.

“With my broom?” James snapped angrily, indicating the broom in Avery’s hand that was indeed James’.

“Calm down, Potter,” Avery said slowly, shrugging.

“We don’t believe your noble Head Boy act, Potter,” Severus added with a sneer, clearly not bothering with Avery’s pretense of innocence. “You’re the same arrogant toerag that you’ve always been.” Severus looked at Lily once more, and she got the impression that he wanted her to believe that James was the same, that he hadn’t changed at all from the immature teenager who’d once hung Severus upside down. It made her angry, as it had every time Sev had tried to tell her how to think. James was different now, even Lily could admit that and she didn’t like him - he’d grown up.

“He’s not the one sneaking around stealing people’s brooms,” she snapped. “Why are you being so childish?”

Severus scowled. “You might have her fooled, Potter, but we don’t see any harm in taking you _Gryffindors_ down a peg.”

James drew in a deep breath. There was a muscle working angrily in his neck, but when he spoke, his voice was calm and even. “Just give me the broom.”

Lily couldn’t help but be proud of James Potter in that moment - he was being so diplomatic even though the Slytherins were so clearly hoping for a fight.

Regulus was looking at James contemplatively. He really looked so much like his brother that Lily found it eerie - it was almost like it was Sirius who was staring at James with something that bordered on contempt. The grey eyes, maybe two shades darker than Sirius’ at most, the black hair that curled past his ears, the handsome, aristocratic planes of his face...

“Let’s go,” Regulus said, his tone free of any inflection. “The Mudblood is right; this is childish.”

The three Slytherins made a move to brush past them - reluctantly, it seemed, on Severus’ part - but James called them back.

“Sirius’ broom?” he asked, his face still hard.

Regulus paused. “I’ll give it back to my _dear_ brother in person.”

Lily and James watched them go. “Since when does baby brother call the shots?” Lily asked James curiously, raising a brow.

“I don’t know,” James said, starting back in the direction of the castle. Lily hurried after him, nearly having to break into a jog, to keep up with James’ long strides.

“What are you doing now?” Lily asked worriedly. He wasn’t going after them, was he?

“I’m going back to the common room,” he said, shooting her a look that suggested he thought that was self-explanatory.

“Okay, good,” Lily sighed in relief. “Well, that wasn’t a total waste of time.”

James gave her another funny look. “I thought it was quite productive, actually. They’re going to give Sirius’ broom back, and we stopped them from taking mine.”

“We didn’t find out anything about who hurt Finn Macleod, though,” Lily said seriously, as they re-entered the castle.

James paused just inside the doors and took her hand, rather unexpectedly. “If those three were involved, then I think they’re probably a little too close to the matter for us to get at. But don’t worry - I haven’t forgotten. I promise you, we are going to find out who hurt Finn.”

Lily didn’t answer. James was still holding her hand and his hazel eyes - which had bright little flecks of yellow around the pupil, Lily noticed - were intent. He was completely serious and so unlike anything she had come to expect from him. She felt her heart pick up speed and the hand that James was holding felt hot.

James tilted his head slightly and leaned in a little closer. Lily felt her heart beat even faster - surely he wasn’t going to kiss her, right in the middle of the Entrance Hall? Why wasn’t she shoving him away? This was _James Potter_ , after all - their history wasn’t exactly conducive to romance, however much hope Potter held out that one day they’d fall madly in love.

“J-James,” she stuttered nervously.

“Get a room!” called a derisive, acid-toned voice.

Lily felt the blood rush to her cheeks as Severus sauntered towards them. He was alone now, and he looked at them both with utter contempt - though his face was splotchy in the way Lily knew it got when he was angry.

“What do you want now?” James said savagely. He had yet to let go of Lily’s hand. She prised her fingers away from his gently, trying not to attract Severus’ attention.

“I bet you think you’re so clever, don’t you, Potter?” Severus hissed, ignoring Lily. “I bet you think you’ve got everyone fooled with your Mr Maturity act.”

“What are you on about, Snivellus? I’m not acting. Why can’t you leave me alone for five minutes? In case you hadn’t noticed, Lily and I were talking, and our conversation doesn’t include you.” James’ tone was cold, and he was gripping his wand tightly, but otherwise he looked quite calm.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Lily said, stepping forward and attempting to get in between the two boys. “There’s no need to argue.”

“Oh, shut up. No one asked for the opinion of a _Mudblood_ ,” Severus snapped, not taking his eyes off James. They were blazing with pure loathing.

“Hey,” James snarled, stepping forward and grabbing the front of Snape’s robes before Lily could stop him. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that.” James raised his wand. “Apologise. _Now._ ”

Severus just laughed. “Make me,” he ground out, lifting his chin in defiance.

It seemed that the use of the ‘m’ word for the second time that day had pushed James’ patience a little too far, and before Lily could stop him, he had drawn back his fist and slammed it into Severus’ jaw. Lily jumped out of the way as Severus retaliated - neither even bothered with their wands.

“Stop it!” she shouted. The fight was starting to draw attention from passing students, and then Lily saw Professor McGonagall, and she felt cold all over.

“That’s enough!” Professor McGonagall said, brandishing her wand fiercely.

Lily managed to drag James off Severus. His lip was cut, but James was tall and strong, built like an athlete, and the Slytherin was much worse for wear - Severus would have one hell of black eye tomorrow, and his nose was bleeding.

“Mr Potter, I don’t know what this is about, but I expect _much_ better of you. You are both adults,” McGonagall’s lips were white and her nostrils were flaring as she paused for breath, “and it’s time you learnt to ignore your differences.”

James wiped the blood from his mouth and fixed Severus with a glare that suggested he was never going to be able to ignore how much Snape infuriated him. Snape looked like he would rather pull his fingernails from their beds with rusty pliers than be civil with James.

“I’m taking twenty points from each of you,” McGonagall continued, “and you will both have detention tomorrow night. Miss Evans, take Mr Potter and get him cleaned up. Mr Snape, you need the hospital wing.”

Lily dragged James up the stairs, and when they were far enough down the corridor that they were relatively alone, she shoved him in the chest.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she cried. “Why did you have to hit him for?”

A muscle in James’ jaw clenched. “Did you not hear what he called you? After that and the stuff with the brooms - he fucking deserved it, Lily!”

“Why can’t you just ignore him? Why do you always rise to his bait?” Lily asked, lowering her voice.

James looked at her for a long time. “Why do you always protect him?”

Lily blinked at him. What was that supposed to mean? Did James – surely he didn’t know about what Lily had done, how she had lied to cover Severus. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he insults you, and he treats your friends badly, and he goes against everything you believe in, and you just stand there and take it!” James said, his frustration bubbling over and his eyes flashing behind his glasses. “Why don’t you fight back? Why do you still think there’s anything of the kid you used to know left in him?”

“Because people don’t change,” Lily said, getting angry again. “Somewhere, inside him, is the little kid who just needed a friend. That hasn’t changed. And you haven’t changed either, have you? You’re still the same arrogant bully you always were. You think that just because he called me a name, it’s okay for you to hit him?”

Several emotions worked across James’ face before he clenched his jaw. “Right. If I’m such an awful person, if I disgust you so much, then I’ll leave you to fight your own battles, eh? You figure out who hurt Finn Macleod - you’re so smart, and I’m such an empty-headed bully that you never really needed me in the first place. Good luck and goodnight.”

James turned on his heel and stormed away, leaving Lily, feeling guilty and angry and _alone_ _,_ in his wake.

* * *

 

The following night, Izza was in the library; she was supposed to be working on her plethora of Charms homework, but she was really just hiding out so Lily couldn’t rope her into working on boring preparations for the Merlin ball - she’d already helped with the decorations and the music and the menu, but Lily was like a work-assigning demon from hell. In fact, Izza hadn’t done any actual homework for at least half an hour, but she had drawn an interesting patterned border around a sheet of blank parchment.

There weren’t a lot of people in the library - it was Friday, after all. It would be busy on Sunday, when everyone realised they’d left their homework till last minute. Izza tossed her quill down and, briefly checking to make sure Madame Pince wasn’t lurking nearby, tipped her chair back so she was balancing on two legs. She rolled her head around slowly, letting out a sigh of satisfaction at the delightful release of tension as her neck cracked twice.

Izza closed her eyes. She loved her friends, she really did, but the bliss of solitude was too much to ignore sometimes. Izza needed to be alone at times, needed it like she needed to breath, and craved the silence and peace of her own company. She needed to be alone to recharge and rebuild her reserves, having never been the kind to need the company of others at all times.

“Hey, Moldovan!”

She sighed again, this time in annoyance. What was that about silence and solitude again? She righted her chair and opened her eyes, her brows pulling together in a scowl when she realised who had interrupted her. Evan Rosier was standing at her table, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“What?” she said shortly.

“Hello to you too,” Evan said, definitely smirking now. “I was just wondering if you had _An Advanced Guide to Protective Magic?_ The other copy has been checked out, and you seem to have most of the Charms section right here…” he trailed off with a gesture at the table, across which a number of Charms textbooks were spread out.

Izza raised a brow at him, but he seemed to genuinely want the book. Still, no one could blame her for expecting him to have an ulterior motive.

She stood up and stretched across the table, setting books aside as she searched for the title he wanted. _Ah, and there it is_ , she thought, as Rosier leaned forward too - but not to look for the book. Rather, he was attempting to improve his view down the front of her shirt. 

“Rosier, keep your eyes to yourself, or I’ll rip them out,” she threatened, meeting his green eyes.

He just grinned, blowing a lock of wavy blonde hair out of his eyes. “You should know that it only turns me on when you get violent.”

“Anything with a pulse turns you on,” Izza muttered, rolling her eyes. Finally, she found the book Rosier wanted and she handed it to him.

“What do you want with that, anyway?” she asked.

Rosier shrugged elegantly. “I want to be a curse-breaker when I leave school.”

Izza was taken aback. Who knew Death Eaters (or pre-Death Eaters, or whatever they were) had goals and career aspirations? And who knew they went to the trouble of studying in order to achieve those goals? She sure didn’t.

“You look surprised,” Rosier said, as though he had read her mind. 

“Who knew aspiring criminals had dreams?” she said sweetly.

Rosier blinked. “Aspiring - oh, that’s too much!” He burst out in earnest laughter. Izza raised a brow at him - the boy was insane, surely.

“What?” she demanded. “You think we don’t know how much you lot are _dying_ to attach yourselves to Voldemort -” a funny twitch crossed Evan’s face at the name “- the moment you leave school?”

Rosier just smirked. “And do you think I don’t see who you are?” he threw back casually.

Izza stared at him - what was that supposed to mean? Rosier leaned closer to her, still smiling in that maddening way. “Beautiful pureblood, good family...why don’t you just embrace who you could be?” he asked, as though he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

“What are you talking about?”

Rosier reached out and pushed a stray, wavy lock of hair away from her face. Izza focused on breathing in and told herself that punching Rosier in his smug face wouldn’t help anything.

“You. The moment you set foot out of school at the end of the year, your blood becomes a hot commodity. Besides, do you really think we can’t see that Slytherin streak in you? It’s a mile wide. We can recognise our own, Isidora.”

Izza straightened up and stared at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. Rosier met her gaze dead on; his green eyes bright with something like a challenge. “So what you’re saying is that Voldemort wants me because of my blood? It’s red, just like everyone else’s. Nothing special.”

Rosier scoffed, like the idea of her being ‘nothing special’ was an insult to him. “Please. You’re a pureblood. The Dark Lord would reward you handsomely, if it meant having a name like yours stand for him.”

Izza was amused now. If Rosier thought this approach was a good way to get in with her, then he was sorely mistaken. She re-crossed her arms. “I suppose I’d be expected to murder my friends and to be a ‘breeder’ of little Death Eaters?” Even she was a little surprised by the sarcastic level of cheeriness in her voice.

Rosier grinned. “That acid tongue of yours is really, really sexy.” He leaned further forward. “Imagine how good-looking our children could be.”

“I bet your ‘Dark Lord’ would be thrilled.”

“How much better could it get than a Rosier and a Moldovan? Blood doesn’t get any purer.”

Izza pretended to think on it for a moment, then forcefully pushed his face away. “It’s a nice offer, but no thanks. I’m not into murder and torture and pureblood supremacy.”

“There you go again,” Rosier murmured, a half-smile forming on his lips. “Denying who you are - what you could be!” Maybe Rosier was Voldemort’s pied piper, Izza thought in disgust; the handsome face to lure you in with well-articulated promises.

“What the hell do you know about who I am?” she asked derisively.

“More than you’d like to admit. Come on, Moldovan. You like to use people, don’t you?  You can’t help it can you - you see someone and you see right through them, to the heart of how you can manipulate them. Like Sean von Bertouch? You like to manipulate people, and you like to get your own way.” Rosier listed these things, his smirk widening all the while.

“And that makes me a Death Eater, does it?”

Rosier ignored that and went on. “You use your looks to get what you want - not that I’m saying that’s a bad thing; anytime you’re on display we are all looking, everyone around you is transfixed. You’re proud - the fact that you keep arguing with me says as much. And you’re a little bit selfish, aren’t you? Again, not a bad thing if you ask me - but you like having von Bertouch on a leash, and a part of you enjoys the way Black lusts after you.”

Izza had been listening in stony silence, but that - that was just too much. “Sirius? Lust after me? Are you insane?” 

Rosier grinned, nodding slowly. “Don’t be coy, Isidora,” he said in a dark, sanguine voice. “You know, he and his brother are very much alike. Dear Reg thinks you’re very attractive - he’s quite annoyed that his brother is the one who gets to _enjoy_ you.”

Now Izza was mad, as she had been when Avery had insinuated false things about her at Duelling Club. She grabbed the front of Rosier’s robes and dragged him forward, so they were face to face. “No one gets to ‘ _enjoy_ _’_ me unless I say so. Sirius Black is my friend - one of the best people in this god-forsaken country, and you can tell Regulus that I’d sooner die than be with a little snake like him. I’ve got his measure, and yours,” she spat, shaking the fists holding his robes for emphasis.

Rosier seemed to be enjoying the position he was in, at her mercy. “See? That was oh-so-Slytherin.” His devilish smile slowly faded until he was frowning at her. “You’ve really never...with Black?”

Izza shook her head coldly.

“How do you stand the sexual tension?” Rosier asked curiously.

“What sexual tension?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head in disbelief. “Nevermind.” In some sick way, it seemed the fact that Izza had never had sex with Sirius had actually improved her in Rosier’s eyes. “Old Reg will be so pleased!”

Izza bit her lip, feeling lost. What did Rosier mean, sexual tension? Was she missing something? She tried to think… she and Sirius were friends. He was a confidant, someone she could talk to, someone she trusted, but not someone she had ever considered using the way she used Sean von Bertouch. She wouldn’t do that to him...she cared about him, wanted him to be happy, and she was too broken and dark on the inside to make Sirius happy.

What Izza knew was that relationships were born out of need. She needed release, like any human; something physical and without strings, so she had formed a casual relationship with Sean. Her cousins had married other purebloods because they believed that purity had to be preserved. To her family, relationships were all about what could be gained and Izza had learnt at the knees of her forebears. She couldn’t imagine ever thinking of Sirius in terms of his potential to be useful to her - he was her friend, and that was different to everything else she did with anyone else, it was...special. But, then again, she had no experience with relationships built from love and genuine desire to be together - her father had married her mother for love, and look where that had got them...so really, what could Izza be expected to know about love?

She realised that Rosier had yet to leave; he was watching her think with a fascinated expression on his face, like she was a puzzle he simply had to work out.

Izza put her hands down on the table and looked at him. “You have your book, Rosier, now leave me alone. Or was there something else you wanted?” she finished coldly. She hoped not - all the talk of embracing who she really was and sexual tension and being a commodity after school had her reeling, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She felt a headache coming on.

Rosier shrugged and went to turn away, but stopped at the last moment. “Think about this,” he said, reaching out and touching the ring she wore on the fourth finger of her right hand. The Moldovan family crest gleamed in the face of that ring. “If you’re such a good little Gryffindor girl, who loves her Mudblood and blood-traitor friends so much, then why are you still here with me, and not in your common room, safe in the arms of Black, or Lupin, or whoever? It’s because you _like the challenge_.”

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, that mischievous smile playing about the corners of his lips, then he turned on his heel and walked away. Izza watched him go, a strange mix of tension and relief and anger roiling in her chest. Rosier had got what he wanted it seemed; he had stirred her up.

She thought about his parting words and she loathed herself for the little part of her that believed everything he said about her. There was something in her, something dark and un-Gryffindor, and she wondered why she couldn’t just walk away and ignore the people who could see that part of her. She should have walked away, shouldn’t have listened to Rosier… but she had, and now all she could think about where the things he had said, and the things he had got right. Izza liked to get her own way, after all, and she was good at manipulating people…

_No_ , she thought angrily, _I am my own person, not just who people expect me to be_ _._

Izza looked down at the ring on her finger. _Oh, who am I kidding?_

* * *

 

Sirius was alone in his dormitory with only a bottle of Ogden’s finest for company. James had detention for punching Snape - like the slimy git didn’t deserve it for just existing? - and he had no idea where Izza was. Lily had roped Marlene, Mary and Remus into helping her prepare for the Merlin ball, and Peter was also nowhere to be found - probably off with that Shepherd girl again. 

He lay on his bed and stared at the unopened Firewhiskey bottle that stood on his bedside table. He had already asked Evans if she needed any more help - that was how desperate he had been for human company - but she had seemed royally hacked off about something and had told him she was fine, that she had enough help, and could he please go away? As much as Sirius wanted to hang out with his mates, he didn’t want to do so in the presence of an annoyed Evans; that was just asking for trouble.

His watch read 10.21 PM. It was nearly midnight, nearly the end of his father’s birthday.

Sirius sighed and sat up, reaching over and opening the drawer of his bedside table, fumbling around in it for a glass. He poured some Firewhiskey into it, then stretched back out on his bed, his mind still on his father. This was why he didn’t want to be alone; he was sure he was going to drive himself insane.

Despite everything, Sirius missed his dad. He missed the father of his childhood, before he had come to know that there was more to life than blood status and wealth. He missed the idea of a family - something you belonged to implicitly, something that was full of people who loved you for what you were. Of course, his family hadn’t accepted what he was, and he hated them for that. James had always been more of a brother than Regulus, and he had come to think of his mates as his family, but still… He wished that who he was could have been enough for his parents. He wished he could still have the father of his childhood, who had made him feel like he was sitting on the shoulders of a giant when he picked him up, who had taught him to ride a toy broom, and who had shared secret smiles with him at the dinner table when Walburga had snapped at them both to get their elbows off the table at dinner time.

Sirius tipped his head back and let the burning drink slide down his throat. “Happy birthday, dad,” he muttered, his eyes watering from the alcohol.

He poured himself another drink and swirled it around, watching the amber liquid move around the glass. He wanted someone to talk to. He wanted… well, honestly, he wanted Izza. She would understand. She’d have a drink with him, and she’d listen, and she wouldn’t judge him. It was different when she listened - when James listened, it was amazing, of course, but James didn’t understand deep down. James’ parents were awesome. But Izza’s parents were dead, and her grandparents were just like Sirius’ parents, and there was a deep well of sadness in her that mirrored his own.

Eleven o’clock passed and as the minutes ticked closer to midnight, and the level of liquid in the Firewhiskey bottle dropped significantly, Sirius wondered if his thoughts were even making sense anymore, because they seemed scrambled to him. Where were his friends? Why hadn’t any of them come back yet?

He reached out, intending to put his glass down on the bedside table, but he missed completely and it bounced off the floorboards, with an uncomfortably loud _thunk._  

“Oops,” Sirius muttered, trying to sit up. A wave of dizziness crashed over him and he nearly laughed. He had nearly finished the bottle, Moony would not approve…

He managed to stand himself up (with a lot of help from the post of his bed) and he walked (okay, stumbled) in the direction of the bathroom. He needed a good, hot shower to sober up a bit.

There were towels strewn across the bathroom floor and Sirius thought briefly that James’ mum would have a stroke if she ever saw the state of their bathroom. Boys will be boys, was his next thought, when he noticed that someone had left the sink tap dripping.

Sirius hated dripping taps; this was the foremost thought in his fuzzy brain. The tap of his ensuite at Grimmauld Place dripped constantly...it had nearly driven him crazy whenever his mother had locked him in his room. He didn’t even notice the wet floor, however, and as he moved to turn off the tap, his bare feet slipped on the water and he fell forward, throwing a hand out in an attempt to grab the bench. His forehead, not his hand, collided with the corner of the bench, and everything went black.

* * *

 

The very first thing Izza noticed, the next morning, was Sirius’ absence. The four Marauders were so close-knit that when one of them was missing it was glaringly obvious, like a punch in the face. She sat down opposite James, who was staring at his breakfast as though he was willing it to burst into flames. 

“Where’s Sirius?” Izza asked.

James looked up and blinked at her, clearly confused at being addressed by anything other than his breakfast. “Huh? What was the question?”

“I said, where is Sirius?” she repeated, patiently.

“In the hospital wing,” Remus answered for James. “He had a bit of an accident last night.”

Izza looked down at her empty breakfast plate and decided she wasn’t hungry anyway. Picking up her bag, she stood up and said, “I’m going to go see him,” to no one in particular.

There were a few murmured goodbyes as she went, but Izza didn’t really hear them. She wondered what had happened, and she felt a little guilty that she hadn’t been there last night. She knew how he got.

She reached the hospital wing in record time. She was really keen to talk to Sirius; she wanted to tell him about what Rosier had said to her, and - a new thought occurred to her - had his broom been recovered? And was he okay? She worried after him.

Izza ran her fingers through her hair and knocked on the hospital doors. She could hear footsteps from within and, moments later, Madame Pomfrey opened the door.

“Yes?” the matron asked.

“Can I see Sirius Black, please?” Izza said politely.

Madame Pomfrey glanced over her shoulder. “He’s still finishing breakfast… but I suppose so.” Madame Pomfrey stood aside and Izza sailed past her with a quick ‘thanks’ and headed straight for Sirius’ bed.

He was sitting up on his bed, fully clothed, with a newspaper spread across his lap and a half-eaten piece of toast in his hand. The left side of his face, particularly his forehead, was covered in a mottled blue-purple bruise. He looked up upon her approach and grinned at her, looking for all the world like his usual, cheeky self - aside from the ugly bruise of course.

“Iz! What are you doing here?”

She sat down on the edge of his bed. “Checking on you. What happened?”

Sirius’ grin turned sheepish. “I had a couple of drinks. Before I knew it, I was kind of hammered. I went to have a shower and I slipped on some water on the floor and hit my head.” He rolled his eyes and gestured at his bruised face. “Not my finest moment.”

Izza’s feeling of guilt intensified. Poor Sirius had been all alone while she had been arguing with Evan Rosier. “The next time you want to get drunk,” she chastised, “tell me, and we can do it together. It’s more fun that way.” Spontaneously, she leaned in, brushing his hair back and kissing him on the forehead. She pulled back quickly, Rosier’s words ( _How do you stand the sexual tension?)_ ringing in her ears.

Sirius’ brows shot up briefly, but he said nothing. Madame Pomfrey bustled over and looked him over.

“You’re fine to go, Mr Black.” She pressed a little blue pot into his hands. “Put that ointment on at night - it’ll help get rid of the bruises.”

“Great,” Sirius said, folding up his paper and tossing it aside. He swung his long legs off the bed and stood up. “Let’s go.”

They left the hospital wing together and walked in companionable silence, while Sirius finished off his toast. 

“It was my dad’s birthday yesterday,” Sirius said eventually, putting his hands deep in his pockets after brushing stray crumbs off them.

“Oh.” It all made sense now - Sirius had never really been the type to get drunk on his own, but that was enough to make anyone think about it. “I didn’t realise,” she said quietly, touching her fingers to the inside of his wrist as they walked.

“It was stupid,” Sirius laughed at himself and they stopped in a secluded corner of the corridor they were in. “I was just thinking about my parents and -” he broke off, running a hand through his dark, rumpled hair, clearly trying to figure out how to articulate his thoughts, “- and all my life, I’ve lived with this feeling like I should be looking over my shoulder, like some beast is lurking, waiting for me. But, now I realise that all this time it’s just been my fear, that I’m nothing. What am I without the family that turned me into the person I am? Am I just a burn mark in a family tree now?”

“No,” Izza said, quietly but firmly. Had she not had the same argument with herself yesterday? “No, you’re not defined by them.”

Sirius fixed her with a wry half-smile. “I know. I really wanted to talk to you last night. Where were you?” He leaned his shoulder against the wall, fixing her with his intense, silver stare.

Izza bit her lip. “In the library. I went with every intention of doing Charms homework, but I ended up having this argument with Evan Rosier.”

Sirius’ nose screwed up in disgust at the mention of Rosier’s name. “What do you mean?”

Izza shrugged, trying to remain casual and keep her voice even. “He seems to think I have a ‘Slytherin streak’ in me. He said that I’d be a hot commodity after school and that I should just embrace who I could be. He was pretty much asking me to join up with him and his little Death Eater group.” Izza picked at the sleeve of her jumper, avoiding Sirius’ striking eyes.

“Evan Rosier is a stupid child who doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Sirius said, and Izza just stared at him, because that was the most mature and measured reaction she’d ever heard him have to something a Slytherin had said.

“I’m going home to Romania for Christmas, if it makes you feel better. You’ll be celebrating with James, and I’ll fighting to retain the will to live,” she said, steering the conversation back to Sirius and what had happened the previous night. Talking about Evan Rosier with Sirius made her uncomfortable. “My cousin is having her engagement party, and I’m pretty sure my grandmother intends to parade me in front of every eligible bachelor like some fancy Hippogriff and - why are you looking at me like that?”

Sirius reached out touched her chin lightly. “Because you’re just talking to me. Telling me things that I usually have to force out of you. It’s nice.”

Izza didn’t get the point. “And?”

“And, that means that somewhere along the way, you decided that I was worth letting in,” he said, those grey eyes searching hers for something. “That means everything to me. So thank you.”

“I - you...you know you mean the world to me, you’re one of my very best friends,” she said faintly.

Sirius just leaned in and kissed Izza on the cheek. It was a lingering, definitely not-platonic kind of kiss that made her tense up ever so slightly. Okay, so maybe _that_ was that sexual tension… Sirius pulled away, but not _all_ the way – his face was still very close to hers. Her eyes were drawn automatically to his lips, and when she looked up at his eyes, she knew he hadn’t missed it.

He leaned in very slowly, his eyes moving between her eyes and her mouth, giving her time to stop him if she wanted to. She stayed very still. Sirius hadn’t touched her yet, at least not with his hands, but his lips were just centimetres from hers, and she let her eyes drift close. She should stop him but... she wasn’t going to stop him.

Izza took a small breath and Sirius leaned in, pressing his lips to her slightly parted ones. It was chaste enough, and Sirius moved back so there was only the slightest of gaps between their lips. Izza was pretty sure an innocent kiss like that wasn’t supposed to leave her breathless. It was mutual the second time - their lips met again, and Sirius parted hers immediately, his skin hot and his taste sweet, like the jam from his toast. He put a hand on her neck, pulling her closer, and she felt him holding her silken hair between his fingertips. Izza wound her fingers in the front of his shirt and tilted her head slightly to the side.

_Merlin._ Just kissing wasn’t supposed to feel this good. It wasn’t supposed to make her heart beat that fast, and it wasn’t supposed to give her goosebumps or make her feel hot and cold all at the same time, like she was feverish. It was like he was under her skin, in her bloodstream.   


	9. Chapter Eight: Revelations

_ CHAPTER EIGHT:  _ _ REVELATIONS _

“Hey, Potter.” 

He turned, his hand still on the door handle of the Transfiguration classroom. He looked exhausted; there were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his skin looked almost colourless. He had a smattering of tiny freckles across his nose, which she’d never noticed before. Lily bit her lip and looked away so as not to meet his eye. Neither of them had forgotten their fight, and the air between them had been positively frosty ever since. James hadn’t even tried to hit on her in days.  

“Hmm?” James murmured, distractedly.

“Uh, I was going to do a mock-up layout for decorations tonight. Do you reckon you’d be able to give me a hand?” she said, without inflection.

“Yeah, sure,” James said, his tone equally lacklustre. He opened the door and stood aside to let her through.

Lily went and sat down in the desk next to Marlene. The desk on her right was still empty; Izza hadn’t arrived yet.

“Lily!”

Lily jumped as Marlene all but shouted her name. “What?”

Marlene rolled her eyes in an exasperated sort of way. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” Lily shook her head and Marlene went on, “I said, what’s with you and Potter?”

“Nothing,” Lily said firmly, staring straight ahead.

Marlene raised a skeptical brow. “When is it ever ‘nothing’ with you two?”

Lily tried not to look taken aback by that little throwaway. Her fight with Potter had been about nothing, hadn’t it? He had stuck up for her, which was more than she could say for her supposed ‘friend,’ or former friend, or whatever. She didn’t even know what was going on with Severus anymore, and she found she didn’t really care. It was time to shut the book on him, and the time of her life of which he had been a part. His path was not one she could condone.

Lily nearly laughed out loud at that point - she’d never had a pre-Transfiguration lesson epiphany before. She would have to thank Marlene later.

Glancing over, she saw James slumped over his desk, drawing idly on a piece of parchment, the feathered end of his quill fluttering as he scratched at the page. Lily resolved to apologise to him that afternoon when they were working together. He had probably been right, as much as admitting that annoyed her, and they’d probably be relatively alone, she reasoned - she highly doubted any of her friends would volunteer themselves for another night of boring ball preparations after all Lily had been making them do.

Though, she thought with a frown, Izza owed her an evening’s work. In fact, where the hell was she?

* * *

 

Izza let out a soft ‘huh’ as her back made contact with the rough stone of the wall in the third floor corridor. She was trying to remember just how that breathing thing went, but Sirius and the way he kissed, was making it awfully hard.

One of Sirius’ hands dropped down to the small of her back and pressed her hips against his. Warning bells were exploding in Izza’s ears - this was wrong, so wrong. Sirius was her mate, the guy she could talk to about virtually anything. He was the one who laughed with her when she told him the story about Kyle Morton, the poor bloke who had been so nervous about being with her that it had taken him half an hour to locate the clasp of her bra. She was the only person alive (except for the other Marauders) who knew that the girl Sirius had lost his virginity to had had a panic attack halfway through and started crying because she was ‘doing it wrong,’ and would he mind not actually looking at her?

She even knew about his favourite boxers, for crying out loud. They were navy, with little white paw prints on them. And Sirius had seen the nightie that her grandmother had given her one year, which she refused to wear because it was floor length with long sleeves and looked like it belonged in the Dark Ages. He was her _friend_ , and Izza had never gone out with a boy she was friends with, let alone been kissed senseless against a wall by him.

Still… it was easily the best kiss she’d ever been a part of.

“Si-Sirius,” she managed to choke out, when he broke for a breath. He kissed his way along her jaw, his hand curling in her hair in a way that made bolts of electricity shoot up her spine.

“Mm?”

Izza used the hand that was tangled in Sirius’ hair (which was actually as glorious to touch as it looked) as leverage and dragged his head back. “We - we’re late for Transfiguration,” she said, grasping for a reason why he shouldn’t just keep kissing her until she died (a long, pleasurable death, her mind added.)

“It won’t be the first time we’ve ditched class, nor will it be the last,” he pointed out, those oh-so pretty grey eyes burning with the delight of doing something deliciously bad. He was a troublemaker, that was for sure.  

Izza pressed her lips together. Sirius kissed them teasingly, trying to coax her into kissing back. His hips met hers and though Izza herself was tall, she was acutely aware of the broadness of his shoulders, and the way he had to lean down to her. “We shouldn’t - we can’t do this. You’re seeing that girl, and I’m seeing Sean -” Izza was grasping at straws; the argument was incredibly feeble, even to her own ears.

“So? She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s not like you and von Bertouch are getting married.”

“It’s not him I care about.” This was why whatever had just happened had to end then and there, and never be repeated. Sirius was her mate, and no matter how good kissing him felt, she wasn’t going to ruin that friendship - there were few other things that meant as much to her as her friends did. “This isn’t a game to me. I can’t treat you like I treat Sean.”

He frowned. She was extremely aware of how much he was still in her personal space. From where she stood, he looked so bloody perfect, ridiculously handsome even without a smile on his face.

“What makes you think this is a game to me?” His casual tone was so grating against the seriousness of his question that it made her flinch. What did he mean - he couldn’t like her, she was so far from good enough for him, she thought.

“Well, what makes you think this is even a remotely good idea?” she snapped. She was retreating back within herself, throwing up walls left, right and centre and she actually hated herself for it.

Sirius looked like he’d been slapped across the face, momentarily. Then he just looked understanding. What the fuck was _that_ about?

“I get it,” he said, leaning in so she was pressed right up against the wall again. “Too much, too soon. Let’s agree not to talk about it or mention it again.” His voice was tight, she thought. Had she hurt his feelings? She didn’t want that. She just wanted things to be normal between them, she wanted her normal Sirius. 

It took Izza a moment to process that. “Okay. That’s probably a good idea.”

Sirius leaned in and kissed her on the cheek - in the same way that had started this whole thing off. Then, he pulled her away from the wall, and they set off in the direction of Transfiguration classroom as if nothing had happened.

Izza tried to get her breathing under control - surely that hadn’t just occurred. Surely she was still asleep - this was just some crazy dream, a by-product of her talk with Evan Rosier. She silently cursed Rosier - hadn’t the stupid blonde bastard ever the heard the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’? She cursed Sirius too, because while her head was applauding her own willpower, her body was demanding she get back against that wall and ask him to carry on, please. 

A horrible, heavy pit of confusion settled in Izza’s abdomen. Apart from the fact that she was seriously second guessing every fleeting feeling that occurred to her, if Sirius wanted more than friendship, why had he given up so easily? And since when had he wanted more than friendship from her? Had she missed things, signs?

Izza sighed - this was why she rarely bothered with relationships that came with strings attached. It was seldom worth the emotional trauma.

* * *

 

“What’s your problem?” Remus asked, as Sirius ran a frustrated hand through his hair for the tenth time since they had departed the common room, on their way to lunch. If Remus didn’t know any better he’d think he was walking with James. 

“The feminine species.”

Remus laughed. “Naturally. What did you do?”

Sirius shot Remus a strange look, then shrugged his shoulders in the manner that Remus knew was his affected way, when he was trying to be casual. “Kissed Izza.”

“So what’s the – wait, what was that?” Remus stopped in his tracks and stared at Sirius, not quite believing the words that had just come out of his mouth.

The corner of Sirius’ mouth turned up slightly. “She seemed to like it, but then she said we should just pretend it never happened.” He huffed in frustration, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and prodding Moony forward. “I don’t get girls.”

“Well, your first mistake was kissing her,” Remus said, as they resumed walking.

Sirius frowned. “What do you mean?”

“A girl like Izza - aside from the fact that she’s your friend and deserves your respect - has to be coaxed into it. She’s highly-strung when it comes to feeling.”

Sirius was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I s’pose you’re right.” He looked contemplative. “I did think I might have scared her a bit.”

They were silent for a little while, and Remus was suddenly struck by the ridiculousness of the situation - _he_ was giving _Sirius_ girl advice. Remus had never known Sirius to be anything less than confident in his own prowess with girls - it was hard not to be when you were as handsome, athletically and academically talented, and funny and interesting as Sirius was. Granted, this was Izza they were talking about, the only girl whose opinion of him that Sirius cared about, and one of the most terrifying, intriguing, beautiful girls Remus had ever known. Still, it was a little weird to see his friend so at sea in regards to a girl.

“So, you like her?” Remus eventually said, looking sideways at his mate.

“Obviously.”

Remus just stared at him until he relented.

“All right, all right. Geez, Moony.” Sirius grinned his best and most mischievous smile. “Look, I don’t ever want to lose her as a friend, but lately…” Sirius sighed and shrugged dramatically. “She makes my heart beat faster. I just wanted to see what it felt like.”

“Wow.” That was as close as Sirius would probably ever get to admitting that he liked Izza out loud.

Remus wanted to push Sirius further, but as they rounded the corner, he nearly laughed at the irony - Izza was standing with a Ravenclaw seventh year by the name of Jack Gillies. She spotted them straight away and broke off in the middle of her sentence. A very faint pink colour briefly appeared on her cheekbones - Remus only noticed because Sirius had told him about the kiss - but she shook it off immediately, smiled at them, and gestured for Jack to go on without her.

She looked really pretty, Remus had to admit. Her dark hair had been piled into a high ponytail, and a faint stain had been applied to her lips, giving them a watermelon, just-kissed colour. Remus looked at Sirius; he was watching Izza and licked his lips unconsciously. Remus smirked.

To their credit, both Sirius and Izza were excellent at pretending nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened between them. They talked and teased each other like they always did, and no one would ever be able to guess that something was different unless they knew the truth - but it was, as Remus was soon to find out.

He entered the library after his last class, hoping to get some Transfiguration homework done before dinner. Professor McGonagall was shoving homework down their throats like it was going out of style, and if he got caught up helping Lily and James with the ball again after dinner then he’d never get any of it done.

It appeared Izza had the same idea - she had claimed a secluded table in the corner, beyond the Invisibility section, which was now covered in books and was writing furiously. Remus made a beeline for her and sat down.

“Hey, Remus,” she said, without looking up. How did she do that, he wondered, setting his heavy book bag down and kicking it under the table.

“Hi. Are you starting the Transfig essay?” He leaned over, trying to get a look at what she was doing, but she quickly covered it up.

“Oh, this? No, this is just a letter,” she said, avoiding his eye.

Remus grinned knowingly. “Who’s it for?”

Izza shot him a strange look, as if surprised by his boldness. “My grandparents.” She looked down at the table, twisting her quill through her fingers in an anxious sort of way. “I’m going home for Christmas.”

“Oh,” Remus said, his smile vanishing.

Izza shrugged nonchalantly, but when she spoke, there was the smallest hint of bitterness in her voice. “It’s okay, I guess. At least, at Christmas, there’s always other people around. As long as my grandmother doesn’t attempt to marry me off to some rich, middle-aged pureblood with a bald patch and questionable hygiene, we can probably chalk it up as a win.”

“Has that, er, ever happened before?”

Izza’s expression was dark. “Yes. His name was Borislav, and he was a head shorter than me. He stood on his toes the whole time in an attempt to see down the front of my blouse.”

Remus had to laugh, but he did it as sympathetically as possible. He had the most amusing mental image of Izza punching Borislav in the face - the girl was more than capable of teaching lecherous old men a lesson.

“My brother eventually told him that, if he didn’t keep his eyes to himself, Kes would feed him piece by piece to grandfather’s fancy hippogriffs.” A hint of a smirk appeared on Izza’s lips.

“So _that’_ _s_ where you get your inventive threats from,” Remus teased.

Izza rolled her eyes, but laughed nonetheless. She set aside her letter and pulled her Transfiguration homework towards her. “I did come to do homework,” she said with a sigh, “but I can hardly bring myself to concentrate. I suppose Sirius told you?” She looked at him sharply, as if she could see right through him.

He recoiled from her gaze a little - sometimes, Remus could swear Izza could read minds. “Yeah, he told me,” he said simply, taking the earlier advice he’d given to Sirius. He would let Izza come to him; he wouldn’t scare her off with questions she didn’t want to answer.

“Everything was fine until - bloody Rosier and bloody Sirius,” she mumbled the last bit, and Remus had to lean in to catch it.

“What do you mean, Rosier? What’s he got to do with this?”

Izza bit her lip. “He asked me if I had ever had sex with Sirius, and I said no, that’s ridiculous. Then he asked me, how do I stand the sexual tension?” Izza ran her hands through her hair. “I was completely unaware of any tension until he said that, but then this morning, it was practically slapping me in the face. I was blissful in my ignorance, but now I’m so confused, and I don’t know what the hell I want, which is also completely insane. I always know what I want.”

Remus blinked at her. He’d never heard Izza talk like that - all those feelings and thoughts had come out in a rush of words that was so unlike her. Usually, she locked everything carefully inside, behind walls and walls of defences, and measured words and sentences as carefully as gold. He actually found it somewhat endearing; poor Izza looked positively forlorn, and vulnerability was a very different look on her.

“I don’t really know what to say,” he began, gently. “Other than just don’t overthink it. If it feels right, go with it. You have good instincts.” That much was true - she had always been a good judge of character. It was feelings, rather than people that stumped her.

Izza reached out and squeezed his hand, briefly, but affectionately. “Thanks, Remus. You always give the best advice.”

Remus smiled at her, as he closed his fist, then opened it again. The skin on his hand felt odd.

Izza slid her chair closer and leaned up against his shoulder, looking at his homework. “So, have you started this essay yet?” she asked, but Remus barely heard her. All he could hear was the sudden increase in the speed of his heartbeat at the rush of milk and honey scent that invaded his nostrils. What the hell?

Maybe he was having some sort of palpitation, he thought. He was a little young to be having a heart attack, but surely it had nothing to do with Izza’s proximity? Surely it had nothing to do with those violet-blue eyes, which were currently burning a hole in his temple, as she waited for his answer. And surely it had nothing to do with her face, turned towards him, her pretty, pretty face…

_Answer her, you idiot,_ he scolded himself. “Nope.” _Smooth._

“Are you all right?” she asked, raising a brow. “You’ve gone a bit pale.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. _Liar._ He’d obviously spent way too much time thinking about Izza as he tried to help Sirius. She had always made him nervous, in the way that extremely good-looking girls did to shy guys like him, but this was kind of different.

Izza grabbed her Transfiguration book and smiled at him.

_Fuck._

* * *

 

Lily tossed her bag onto the floor and flopped into the comfiest armchair she could find, by the fire in the common room. It had been a long day, and she was tired and wanted nothing more than to just go to bed. She knew, however, that she had to get cracking on organisations for the ball - but just because she knew she had to, didn’t mean she was looking forward to it. 

Lily opened one eye and tilted her head from side to side. She couldn’t see James, so she closed that eye and opened the other, scanning the other side of the common room. Still nothing. She closed her eyes again; maybe she could steal a half-hour nap? The blazing fire was making her feel very warm and sleepy.

That idea went out the window when the portrait hole opened and the group traipsed in - Sirius, Remus, Izza, Marlene, Mary and James, the whole lot of them. Lily sighed and opened her eyes. She sat up straighter and crossed her legs as her friends grabbed various chairs or floor space and made themselves comfortable.    

“Charms sucks,” Mary said, giving her book bag a swift quick kick, before lying down on the floor. “Why do all the charms have stupid complicated wand movements?”

“To make your life difficult, _obviously,_ ” Izza teased. Mary stuck her tongue out at her.

“Oi, Moony,” James said. He was slung across his chair, one long leg dangling over the arm. His feet were bare, and he was curling his toes against the warmth of the fire. “Do you still have my Transfiguration textbook?”

Lily looked at Remus. He didn’t look like he’d even heard James - he was staring pensively at the portrait hole. He was rather pale, she thought, and looked like he was a million miles away.

James cupped his hands around his mouth. “Earth to Remus Lupin.”

“Remus!” Izza, who was closest to him, said sharply. He jumped and turned to face her.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, do you still have my Transfiguration textbook?” James repeated patiently. Remus nodded and pulled it from his bag, then handed it to Izza, who passed it to Sirius on her other side, who tossed it in James’ direction.

Izza yawned and stretched. “Is it too early for me to go to bed yet?” she asked, standing up. Marlene, who had been close to dozing off in her own chair, stood too.

“I hope not,” she said, “Because I’m following you.”

Izza looked around, running a hand through her hair. “Where did I put my bag?”

Lily watched as both Remus and Sirius jumped up and reached for Izza’s bag at the same time. They paused and caught each other’s eye. Remus pulled his hand away and sat down again. Izza raised a brow at the pair, and when Sirius handed her the bag, something passed between them. Sirius shook his head almost imperceptibly, and Izza’s brows pulled together ever so slightly. Then she turned away and Lily shrugged it off with a glance at James and Mary and Peter. None of them had seemed to notice anything. 

“Potter,” Lily said. He looked at her slowly, apprehensively. She smirked. “Come on. I need your help. Professor McGonagall said we could use her classroom.”

James caught Sirius’ eye and winked. “Evans, wouldn’t you rather somewhere soft? My bed is free…”

It took Lily a split-second to work out what he meant. She rolled her eyes. “For five minutes, Potter, it’d be nice for you to actually act like an adult.”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” James said sweetly, standing and sliding his feet into his shoes. “However, it’s unlikely to happen. Lead the way, boss.”

Lily retrieved her bag and together they climbed out the portrait hole. They were mainly quiet on the way down to the Transfiguration classroom, and it wasn’t until they got there and Lily started to unpack that she realised she’d forgotten the floor plan of the Great Hall that she’d drawn meticulously, all ready to start marking out where decorations would go.

“Damn. I’ll have to go back.” Lily looked slyly at James, who was sitting in a chair with his feet up on the desk. “Unless you want to go for me? It’ll be on the table where we were sitting.”

James shook his head. “Nope. I want to take you out, Evans, not be your house elf.”

“Please?” Lily tried Izza’s favourite trick; she dropped her chin and looked at James through her lashes.

“Nice try, Evans, but no."

Lily let out an annoyed huff. “You’re such a – a…”

“Prat? Toerag? Attractive, lovable idiot?” James supplied helpfully.

“I was going to say pain in the neck,” Lily snapped, all her annoyance at Potter from the previous afternoon returning.

By the time she returned from retrieving the parchment, her mood had rapidly spiralled. Potter had better behave himself, because she didn’t trust herself not to attempt to kill him. She slammed the classroom door on her way back in, and the corner of James’ mouth curled slightly. That smug jerk.

Lily pulled her chair next to him and shoved his feet off the desk, so she could spread out her floor plan. “What do you think about an ice sculpture here?” she asked, pointing to the front of the Hall.

“An ice sculpture? Evans, ice belongs in drinks, not in elaborate, ridiculous shapes.”

“Do you have any ideas, then?” she demanded. She knew she was being rude, but she couldn’t help it - Potter just had a knack for getting under her skin and driving her mental.

James looked momentarily taken aback. Then, his expression turned thoughtful. “What about something that people can leave their mark on? What about a big pin board - we can have a camera set up - you know the kind that prints the picture on the spot - and people can take a photo with their friends and pin it to the board?”

Lily stared at him and he looked away.

“Or something. Whatever,” he muttered.

“No,” Lily said, a little more gently. “I like that idea.” She wrote it down carefully in the little notebook that she had been using to record ideas.  

James grinned. “Can we have a big slide too?”

Lily sighed. “Please, be serious. You don’t have to go through your whole life acting like a child.”

It was James’ turn to huff. Lily wasn’t entirely sure why she was doing this - attempting to goad James into a fight - considering their fights always ended badly. But what frustrated her more was the way he was acting - he wasn’t biting back, the way he usually did. He was exasperated by her, she could see that, but it was like she was the naughty child and he was the responsible adult; she couldn’t stop goading him.

“What’s your problem, Lily? Why are you staring at me like I’ve grown an extra eye, and why are you acting so high and mighty?”

Lily glared at him. “You’re my problem. Why couldn’t you just stay the same? What’s changed - why are you so different?”

He stared at her with those hazel eyes. “Why is different such a bad thing to you?”

“Because everything else is changing and I just want one thing in my life to stay predictable.” Lily put her hand over her mouth - she hadn’t meant to say that, she hadn’t _wanted_ to say that, not to James Potter.

“I haven’t changed. People don’t change,” James said.

“You have,” Lily said stubbornly. “Tell me what’s changed.”

James considered her for a long time. He ran a hand through his hair and looked away, before looking her in the eye again. “If I’ve changed, then I don’t know why that is, exactly. But I reckon it might’ve been this summer.”

Lily was quiet. She wanted to hear what James had to say, and she was afraid that if she spoke, he would change his mind.

James closed his eyes. “If I tell you this, you have to swear not to tell anyone else.”

She nodded quickly. “I swear.”

“Sirius ran away over the summer. He’d had enough of his parents’ views, and they just didn’t accept the person he is. He’s a good bloke, Lily, a really good bloke and he’s like my brother. I know you two don’t always get along, but that’s why I asked you to go easy on him earlier this year. He’s had a rough time.”

James leaned forward in his chair and picked at a burnt spot on the desk. “He was a mess. No matter what, they’re still his parents. And leaving Regulus...he was really cut up about it all.” James looked up at her. “And he had this bruise on his face where his dad had hit him for being ‘rude’ and ‘ungrateful’ to his mother. My heart just about broke, Lily. He deserves so much better than the crap that life has given him so far. I just wish I’d been able to protect him.” James pressed the heel of his palm to his brow and for a moment, his face was obscured.

For her part, Lily felt inexplicably close to tears. Her throat was hot and tight; she tried to swallow the feeling down.

James went on. “He asked if he could stay a while, and I said of course. He practically lived at my house before then, anyway, so we just kind of made it official. Some days were really bad, like bodysnatchers had taken my best mate and left me with something else. There were times when I’d be talking to him and I’d realise he’d been staring into space for the past half-hour, not hearing a word I said. I was so afraid that he’d disappear so far inside himself that he’d never come back.”

Lily wanted to say something. She felt almost embarrassed - to her, Sirius Black was a joker; a handsome, fun-loving lad who never took much of anything too seriously. She wasn’t supposed to know this secret side of him. Lily realised she’d never look at Black the same way again. He’d taken on a whole new humanity to her.

James wasn’t finished. “There were days when I thought if I said or did the wrong thing, that’d be it. I’d lose him. And I couldn’t - can’t - let that happen. He’s my brother; I’ll always need him in my life.” James laughed, almost bitterly. “You said I’m different. Well, when you have to drag your best mate back from the brink, it kind of changes you. It forces you to grow up,” James said quietly.

He didn’t speak again, and Lily realised she’d have to say something. “I never knew all that happened. You - you’re a good friend. Sirius is lucky to have you.”

“You can’t tell him that you know,” James said, as if he hadn’t heard her. “He’d be embarrassed.”

“Does Izza know all this?” Lily asked curiously. Sirius and Izza were close, and if the other girl knew, then Lily could only be impressed at her ability to keep a secret.

James nodded. “I think so. Some of it at least. She and Sirius talk about his family a lot, and sometimes about hers too. They understand each other.” 

Lily tried to imagine having a candid discussion with Izza about her family. She just couldn’t see it, but she didn’t think that was entirely a bad thing. Lily couldn’t really understand the way Izza’s family worked, or the way any pureblood families worked, for that matter. She was glad Izza had Sirius to talk to about that.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Lily said earnestly. “I appreciate your trust in me.”

“Lily, I don’t believe people change, but I reckon they grow up. Maybe I’ve grown up. Hopefully that’ll allow us to be friends.” James met her eye and held her gaze. Lily felt goosebumps rising on her skin - James had an uncanny talent for maintaining that kind of intense eye contact.

“I thought you wanted to ‘take me out,’” she quoted.

He shrugged. “I’d rather be your friend than mean nothing at all to you.”


	10. Chapter Nine: No Sense Like Nonsense

_ CHAPTER NINE:  _ _ NO SENSE LIKE NONSENSE _

* * *

 

The last few days of term passed a little too quickly for Lily’s liking, until it was the day of the Merlin ball. Because they were Head Boy and Girl, Professor Dumbledore had given James and Lily a special exemption from classes so that they could help the teachers set up. They were also the only two students in the school who were privy to Dumbledore’s little surprise - he had commissioned the Hobgoblins to play for them.

“Stubby Boardman is a god,” Lily informed James. They were setting up James’ idea - it was a big corkboard and they had provided a camera, which would print out magical moving polaroids, with the intention being that the students would add their name, house and year to the photos and pin them to the board. Dumbledore had agreed that the board would stay in the Great Hall for the rest of the year as a show of unity.

“He’s not _that_ good-looking,” James laughed, rolling his eyes. He was magically attaching a frame to the corkboard.

Lily stared at him in disbelief. “Yes, he is. He’s possibly the most talented, beautiful wizard in the world. He’s -” Lily broke off, trying to think a word that was good enough, “- he’s like stupid, crazy, insanely, _unbelievably_ hot.”

James blinked at her, before bursting out in hysterical laughter. Lily grinned. Amazingly enough, they had actually gotten along really well for the past week or so, and even more amazingly, Lily was really enjoying his company as they worked.

“Come on, Potter,” Lily wheedled. “You can’t tell me that that glorious voice of his doesn’t give you goosebumps. And those eyes… there was a spread of him in last month’s _Witch Weekly,_ and it was like he was staring into my soul through the page.” She sighed dreamily. She was overplaying, just a little bit, but clearly James thought she was funny.

“Wow, Evans,” James commented. “When he gets here, shall I just ask everyone to leave so you can jump his bones?”

“That’d be brilliant,” Lily said sweetly.

“Here, give me a hand,” James said, grabbing hold of one corner of the board. Lily took hold of the opposite corner, and they lifted it upright and set it into the stand they had prepared for it. 

“It looks good,” Lily said, stepping back and admiring their handiwork.

James looked around. “The whole place looks awesome.” He was right - the Great Hall had been transformed into a winter playground. Soft snowflakes, which were magically warm and dry, fluttered down from the enchanted ceiling and Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall had succeeded in making the Great Hall look like a forest glade, complete with a soft carpet of grass and trees that made a breezy canopy, through which patches of the magical ceiling - currently showing real snow flakes falling in flurries - were visible. The High Table had been replaced by a stage, and, like they had on Halloween, the house tables had been set up along the walls.

“Potter, Evans, you two can go, if you like.” It was Professor Buchanan. Lily laughed - he was covered in crepe paper and fake snow, his hat askew.

“What happened to you, Professor?” she asked.

Buchanan grimaced. “Don’t even ask.” He wandered off, little pieces of crepe fluttering behind him.

“Let’s go,” James said, batting his eyes. “I have to make myself beautiful.”

Lily laughed. “Are you and Anna going together?” She knew James and Anna had been dating - pretty casually, it was true, but dating nonetheless. She was curious - she’d definitely noticed a distinct drop in incidences of James publicly asking her out since Anna had been hanging around.

James shrugged. “We never made concrete plans.”

“Going cold on her?”

James held open the door for Lily. “I like her. She’s a nice girl, but I highly doubt she’s the girl for me in the long run.”

When they reached the Gryffindor common room, they found it in a state of chaos. Their housemates were running around like headless hippogriffs, getting ready for the ball. All the students were invited, but the kids in the first, second and third years would be sent to bed at ten o’clock, at which point the Hobgoblins would come out and perform for the older students - though of course, no one but the professors and Lily and James knew that.

Lily said a quick ‘see you later’ to James and bounded up the girls’ stairs and into her room. The girls greeted her and she let out a giggle at the state of the room. There were clothes strewn everywhere and make up all over the bench in the bathroom. Izza was curling Marlene’s hair with her wand and Mary was lounging on her bed in a dressing gown, reading _Witch Weekly_ and (loudly) admiring Stubby Boardman. Lily grinned - the girls would flip out when they actually saw him in the flesh later that night.

“Evans,” Izza said imperiously, letting one final curl fall over Marlene’s shoulder, before proclaiming her finished. “What are you doing with your hair?”

Lily shrugged, having not thought about it. She liked Izza’s hair though; it was poker straight, as opposed to her usual waves, and it shone like dark silk. 

“Well, what dress are you wearing?” Izza asked patiently.

“Umm, this one.” Lily floated over to her bed and picked up the dress she had hung on the railing of the hangings. It was simple enough - a deep, sapphire coloured strapless dress. It was very Lily - nothing fussy, but it played to her assets; her milky, smooth décolletage and her slender neck.

“I’m doing your hair up then,” Izza informed her after appraising the dress, shoving her down into Marlene’s vacated seat.

“Why?” Lily asked, smiling.

“Because it’ll show off your neck. Your dress is strapless. Updo equals long, thin neck,” Izza muttered, running a brush through Lily’s hair. By the time Izza was done with her, Lily had to admit her hair looked really nice. Izza had curled it first, then swept it up and pinned it in place at Lily’s crown so that little curls hung down the back of her neck.

Eventually, they were ready. Lily took a moment to admire her friends; each girl looked gorgeous. Marlene had gone for a simple black A-line dress with a gold neckline, but with her sun-kissed skin and golden-brown curls, she looked stunning. Izza had convinced her to wear red lipstick too, and the effect was striking. Izza’s dress had a neckline that hugged her bust, with thin straps that curved up over her collarbones and down to her waist at the back, for the dress was backless, showing off miles of creamy skin and the sharp angles of her shoulder blades contrasting with the curve of the small of her back. It was a beautiful deep plum colour that looked lovely against Izza’s pale skin colour, dark hair and violet-blue eyes. Mary’s dress was bronze, with a pretty, embellished hem; she had braided the front of her hair and left the rest loose; she looked like a Greek muse.

Izza was fastening the silver tulip-shaped clasp of her best cloak. “What time did you say they were meeting us?” she asked Marlene. Izza had roped Sirius into being her date, and Marlene had done the same to Remus. It was about convenience, really - both pairs were too lazy to look for real dates - and from what Lily heard, Sirius was avoiding his fan club. Mary was going with a Ravenclaw seventh year named Justin Tait. Lily had decided she’d probably be too busy to pay enough attention to a date to leave his ego intact, and so had opted not to ask anyone.

“Er, ten minutes ago?” Marlene said sheepishly.

Izza just laughed. “We’re just fashionably late, it’s expected.”

Lily stifled a giggle when the first thing that Sirius said to them when they got downstairs was not ‘You look beautiful, Izza,’ but “You’re late.”

“Fashionably,” Izza corrected, tapping him on the nose.

Sirius made a face. “That’s still late.”

Izza scowled. “And you’re still a pain in my patella.”

“But you love me.”

Izza made an expression like she couldn’t believe it either. “I tolerate you,” she said, letting him put an arm around her shoulder. “There’s a difference.”

Sirius opened his mouth to retort again, but James cut him off, steering everyone in the direction of the portrait hole with sweeps of his arms. “All right, all right, that’s enough. Let’s go.”

Remus held his elbow out to Marlene. “Shall we?” Marlene smiled and linked her arm with his.

Lily watched, and she felt a frown form as Remus looked at Izza, who was walking ahead with Sirius, momentarily. The look confused Lily - it was almost longing, and there was definitely some regret and some wistfulness in the expression. As quickly as it had come, however, it was gone again, and Remus grinned as Marlene said something to him.

“Come on, Evans, get a move on,” James said, poking her in the back. She considered telling him what she had seen, but decided it had probably just been a figment of her imagination.

They met Mary’s date in the Entrance Hall and Lily couldn’t help but be appreciative of Mary’s taste in men. Justin Tait was gorgeous - tall and tanned, with sunny blonde curls and bright blue-green eyes. Lily didn’t really know him - he was a Quidditch lover, and their respective friends had never really interacted a great deal - but she liked his smile.

“Justin!” Mary said, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to the group. “This is Lily.”

“Hi,” Lily said, shaking his hand. She looked at Mary, who was bouncing excitedly, and she suddenly understood. Mary loved to play matchmaker.

“It’s nice to be introduced properly,” Justin said, offering Lily that lovely, white tooth-filled smile.

“Hey, look,” Izza said. “It’s Peter’s Hufflepuff girl…”

Adina Shepherd descended down the stairs, with her twin sister Abigail and Anna Braith. Peter had eventually worked up the courage to ask Adina, to go with him and she had said yes immediately, to his great relief. Lily happened to know James and Sirius had lovingly threatened to turn all Peter’s socks into moths (his great fear) unless he grew some bollocks and asked Adina out.

James kissed Anna on the lips in greeting.

“Let’s go, people, while I’m young,” Izza said, clapping her hands impatiently. Her unfathomable eyes slid from James and Anna to Lily, as she ushered them off.

They entered the Great Hall and there was much ooh-ing and ahh-ing as the first few flakes of warm, dry snow drifted down on them. Lily looked at James and he winked, white flakes settling in his messy locks. He led them over to the pin board and the camera and they spent a good ten minutes fooling around in front of the camera, pulling faces and mucking around until they were nearly crying with laughter. Lily put her favourite - a picture of the four girls laughing - right next to Izza’s choice - her with her arms around Sirius and Lily, and put the rest in her evening bag.

“ _Isidora_ _Moldovan, Gryffindor, seventh year,_ ” she said aloud, reading from the caption Izza had added to her choice photograph. “You used your full name,” she observed, looking at Izza.

Izza shrugged. She grabbed the quill and added ‘ _Izza_ _’_ at the bottom of the polaroid.

“Much better,” Sirius murmured, reaching over Izza’s shoulder to pin his favourite - a picture of him pulling faces behind a laughing James and Izza - to the board next to hers. He brushed his fingertips over the image, before dropping his hand.

As they finished up, Dumbledore announced the pairs dancing. The first was a very traditional wizarding dance; no touching allowed, but bodies that were close enough to almost touch were acceptable, as were intense, unwavering gazes. The dance spoke of unrequited love, of a passion held back and a love concealed. Lily watched as Sirius grabbed Izza and dragged her to the dance floor. He took half a step back and they both raised their hands, as if they were going to press them together. Then the music began and they started to dance.

And there was that look again, Lily realised. That look that Remus had worn earlier, that look of longing and intensity, was mirrored in Sirius’ face. She spotted Remus and Marlene doing the dance across the room, and she bit her lip. What was going on with these boys?

“Hi.”

Lily jumped, and turned to see Justin behind her. “Hi,” she said, putting a hand over her racing heart.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, smiling a little apologetically, his gaze drifting from her hand on her chest to her face.

Lily laughed. “Aren’t you Mary’s date?” she said teasingly, placing her hands on her hips playfully.

Justin grinned. “I’m pretty sure she had an ulterior motive in asking me,” he said, gesturing between them.

Lily nodded. “Yeah, I got that vibe too.”

“So,” Justin said, taking a step forward. “You want to dance?”

Lily looked over at Izza and Sirius. This was supposed to be a fun night, a night when she didn’t have to worry about the problems in the outside world or the problems of her friends. She didn’t take enough chances, she decided, and Justin was very handsome and nice and he seemed to like her. She looked up at Justin and, slowly, a smile came to her lips. “Yes. Yes I do.”

* * *

 

“This will be the last dance, before it’s time our first, second and third years left us,” Professor Dumbledore announced from the stage. He was wearing robes of deep blue, spangled with golden stars and moons, and he looked merry; like a tall, thin Santa Clause smiling down at all his young charges.  

“I’m tired,” Izza moaned, stamping her foot petulantly.

Sirius grinned. “No, you’re not, you’re just being lazy.”

He took her hand and twirled her around, then pulled her in close to him, so her back was pressed right up against his chest. He wove the fingers of the hand that was holding hers, with her fingers and wrapped both their arms around her waist. He pressed his other hand, with splayed fingers, against her ribs. They continued moving to the music and Izza laughed.

“Wow. Smooth,” she teased. “Do you practice that?”

“All the time. James makes the perfect girl,” Sirius joked. He let go of her hand briefly, so he could sweep her long hair over one shoulder. He took her hand again and he brushed her now-bare shoulder with his lips.

“Sirius,” Izza murmured, warningly.

“What?” he said innocently, his voice barely more than a whisper close to her ear.  

“We talked about this.”

Sirius held her a little tighter. “No, we didn’t. That’s the problem.”

He couldn’t see Izza’s face, but he could feel her stiffen in his arms. “Sirius, I – I -”

“It’s okay. This isn’t the time, is it?”

He felt, rather than heard, her sigh. “You scare the shit out of me, you know?”

Sirius wanted to say something to that, wanted to ask her what she meant, but before he could, Dumbledore announced that it was time for the younger students to leave. When they had all left, Dumbledore smiled down at the older students, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

“And now, for a little surprise,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I believe they’re called the… Hobgoblins?”

Screams from the girls and cheers from the boys erupted and the crowd surged towards the stage. Sirius and Izza found themselves right up against the makeshift platform, thanks to some creative elbowing from Izza. The crowd cheered even louder as the Hobgoblins bounded onto the stage, and Sirius nudged Izza in the ribs when the handsome lead singer, Stubby Boardman, winked at her.

“He’s spotted something he likes,” Sirius laughed, despite the fact that he unexpectedly wanted to hex Boardman for just looking at Izza. 

Izza looked up at the singer contemplatively, then at Sirius. “You know, you two kind of look alike…” she said, gesturing between them.

“That’s absurd,” Sirius said.

Izza’s full lips curled into a smile as Stubby Boardman caught her eye again, and Sirius kind of felt like punching something, surprising himself even with the strength which with that feeling surged in him.

* * *

 

“Your drink, Miss Evans.”

Lily gratefully accepted the Butterbeer that Justin held out to her, and she sipped it as he flopped into the chair next to her. “That’s so good,” she moaned in delight. “I was so thirsty I could have sworn my throat turned to sandpaper.”

Justin was taking a long swig of his own drink and couldn’t answer. Lily smiled and settled back in her chair. She was deliriously happy. She and Justin had danced every dance during the formal part, and they hadn’t run out of things to talk about at all. Lily liked him - he was funny and easy to talk to (and easy on the eye, which was a bonus). She had spotted Mary at one stage and seeing the expression of triumph on her face was somewhat gratifying.

“Do you like them?” Justin asked, gesturing to the Hobgoblins.

“Oh yeah,” Lily nodded, as she watched Stubby Boardman announce that the band would be taking a break for a little while. “They’re amazing live.”

“And Boardman is pretty hot, right?”

Lily laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re a Beater for the other team,” she joked.

“Of course not,” Justin laughed. “I just noticed that all the girls are going mental for him.”

“ _Sure_.”

Justin smiled, still watching the Hobgoblins exit the stage for their break. “Hey, Lily?”

“Yes?” Lily angled herself so that she was facing Justin more, and he did the same. His blonde curls were attractively ruffled from all the exertion of their earlier dancing.

Justin took one more sip of his drink, and said “I’ve had a lot of fun with you tonight, even if I wasn’t officially your date. And I was wondering… do you think… do you think that maybe we could make an official date?” Justin held her gaze, but she could see a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Yes,” she said simply. “Yes, I think we could.” Lily didn’t know how things would turn out with Justin, but she knew she wanted to give it a go and find out. Here was a gorgeous boy who’d actually asked her out the normal way, instead of enchanting inanimate objects to squeakily ask her on dates and promising not to stop until she’d agreed to one (cough, Potter, cough.)

Justin smiled that amazing smile of his and, suddenly, Lily knew what was coming. He set aside both their Butterbeers before putting one hand on her neck and drawing her in for a long, sweet kiss. She knew it was a cliché, but she melted into it, and when he pulled away to draw a quick breath, she missed the warmth of the kiss instantly.

He looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Justin, I think you should probably kiss me again,” Lily said breathlessly.

He wasted no time obliging her.

Eventually Lily pulled away and looked around. She spotted Remus, Peter, Mary and Sirius standing under a tree off to the side of the dance floor and she grabbed Justin’s hand.

“Come on,” she said, smirking. “Let’s go see them.” She jerked her head in their direction. “I wouldn’t want to deprive Mary of her opportunity to gloat, but I’d rather she get it over with as soon as possible.”

“Lead the way,” Justin said amicably, allowing Lily to pull him to his feet.

“Hey,” Lily greeted the group. They all nodded hello, except for Mary, who let out a whoop and hugged Lily so hard she was sure one of her ribs cracked.

“Is Izza around?” Lily asked, curiously. She hadn’t seen her best mate for ages.

Remus’ mouth twitched, as though he was trying very hard not to laugh. Sirius just looked absolutely filthy about something; there was a deep scowl on his handsome face, creating a groove between his eyebrows. “Over there,” Remus said, voice shaking with surprised laughter, pointing to where Izza was leaning against a wall near the makeshift stage. She was talking to Stubby Boardman, who was standing very close to her and smiling, twisting a lock of her dark hair gently around his long index finger.

“They’ve been flirting for about half an hour now,” Peter said, also trying not to laugh.

Lily looked at Sirius. He was staring at Boardman with a expression that bought to mind the phrase ‘if looks could kill…’ Lily was certain that if they could, Boardman would be dead a hundred times over by now.

Sirius _liked_ Izza; that was the only explanation Lily could think of. It was a strange thought; Sirius was not known for his long, emotionally involved relationships. Lily wasn’t sure she approved of him liking her best friend.

* * *

 

Sirius grabbed Izza by the arm - a little harder than he had intended to, admittedly. She had gone to get a drink, and Boardman had returned to the stage, so the Hobgoblins could continue playing. He’d spotted her at the drinks table through the crowd, the magnificent expanse of her back exposed as she reached up to sweep her dark hair over one shoulder.

“What are - ow - you doing?” she demanded, wrenching her arm out of his grip and stopping dead halfway towards the doors of the great hall.

“I need to talk to you. What are _you_ doing, Iz?”

“What do you mean?” She put her hands on her hips, her expression a warning.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, not even really sure what he was doing himself. “ _He_ _’_ _s_ flirting with you. Why are you flirting back? Did you see the way he looked at you - it was like he was undressing you with his eyes!”

Izza stared at him, lips slightly parted. “Are you jealous?” she asked, incredulously.

Sirius recoiled. _Of course_ , he wanted to shout at her, surprising himself. _Of course I am, because I want you all to myself._ “No. I just don’t like the way he looked at you.” Where on earth were all these feelings coming from?

“Oh, so you’re just looking out for a friend?” Izza’s rage was building, Sirius could see it; her eyes were blazing like blue gas flames, and her hands clenched into fists.

“Yes,” he said sullenly, knowing she wouldn’t believe him.

Izza crossed her arms and regarded him with those intense blue eyes of hers. Damn those eyes, Sirius thought, they always seemed to see right through him, to the vulnerable core he kept hidden from everyone else. “I don’t understand, Sirius. First, you suggest that we don’t talk about how we ki- about what happened the other day. Then you go all jealous boyfriend on me? I don’t get what it is that you want from me.” 

“I want- I want-” he broke off, frustrated. How could he put into words what he felt, when even he didn’t know - this was all new to him. “I just don’t understand you.”

Izza looked distinctly sad. “If you can’t work it out, Sirius…” Izza said, raising a brow. “Then I just don’t know. I can’t read your mind. But I’m not a good person - I’m not good enough for you. I’m cold, mean, too proud. I don’t see how I could make you happy.” Izza frowned and shrugged slightly. “I thought you knew me.”

Sirius’ own anger was flaring - but it was because Izza was saying those horrible things about herself, with that slight note of self-loathing in her tone. He wished she could see herself the way everyone around her did. “You’re not any of those things! You’re a good -”

“No,” she interrupted, taking half a step forward. “I’m not.”

Sirius didn’t know why he did it, but he made a split second decision, as if he was completely out of control of his own body; he put his hands on her cheeks and leaned in, kissing her as deeply as he thought he could get away with. Then, he pulled back. He wasn’t sure if she had closed her eyes at all, but she was staring at him as though he’d slapped her across the face. Then, fearful for his own safety (you could never quite tell with Izza, if she was leaning towards physical violence or not), and still feeling out of control of his limbs, he turned around and pressed his way through the crowd, to where he could see the boys standing. James raised a brow as he approached.

“You look a little flushed, Pads.”

He told James what he had just done, and James looked a mixture of shocked and impressed.

“And you’re still alive?”

“Barely.”

“Not for long, maybe,” Peter commented, pointing.

“Uh oh,” Remus said. “You’re in trouble, Padfoot.”

It was Izza, looking like an avenging angel with her livid expression and flashing eyes. She strode right up to Sirius and grabbed the collar of his dress robes. “We need to talk,” she hissed. He spared James a wry grin, as Izza dragged him out of the Great Hall.

“I’m sorry for what I did but I’d follow you anywhere, Iz; you don’t have to manhandle me.”

She ignored his apology and pulled him up the stairs, stopping at the door of an unused classroom. She opened the door and pushed him inside, roughing him around surprisingly easily considering Sirius was a healthy, strong six-foot-three. But then again, he wasn’t resisting too much - it was better to let the wave of Izza’s rage break over you and ebb itself out. Still unable to stop himself from grinning (was he trying to get himself killed?), Sirius lifted himself onto the teachers’ desk and watched as she closed the door.

“I rather like this side of you, Iz.”

She ran her hands through her hair, turning her back on him and taking a few steadying breaths. He watched the expansion and retraction of her ribs beneath her skin and muscle, and his eyes traced the column of her spine. Finally, she expelled a heavy breath and turned to look at him questioningly. “Shut up. Why? Why did you do that? In the middle of the - and with everyone around, and-”

Sirius shrugged. “Because I wanted to. Because the thought of Stubby Boardman being anywhere near you makes me want to beat his pretty face in.” He didn’t know why. He’d never felt this way before. He wasn’t usually a jealous type - wasn’t even a boyfriend type, which he felt was kind of prerequisite to any jealousy.

Izza pressed her lips together and raised a dark, arched brow. Sirius wondered if she knew how turned on he was by her in that moment - he loved fiery, passionate, burning Izza, not the cold, walled facade she put up for everyone else. “You wanted to? Really? The whim just took you?” she said, sarcastically.

Sirius laughed briefly. “Yeah. And because you’re too beautiful for your own good - for _my_ own good - and I’ve wanted to do it again ever since that first time. I can’t just forget about it, even though I tried. By the way, I love your hair like this.”

Izza looked like she didn’t know what to say to that; her lips parted and closed again several times soundlessly. Sirius beckoned her forwards and when, seemingly against her better instincts, she had moved close enough, he reached out and put his hands on her hips, pulling her forwards until she was standing between his legs, close enough that if Sirius breathed particularly deeply, his chest would brush against hers.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I was going to kiss you again,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Try as I might, I just can’t seem to stop the impulse.” He leaned in, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“What do you want from me?” Izza looked down, worrying her bottom lip. Then, she took a deep, steadying breath, and went on. “I’m not promising anything, Sirius. I can’t promise anything.”

Sirius wanted to tell her that he didn’t know either - he didn’t know what he was doing, or why, or how he felt, because he’d never felt like this. This wasn’t a romance, it was two incredibly emotionally unavailable people steering into the skid, letting instinct guide and whatever may come happen. “I know,” he said gently. “We don’t have to talk now. We can talk later.” He didn’t mind delaying the inevitable moment when she would tell him that anything other than friendship between them was a mistake. He just wanted to have her lips on his again - he needed it like he needed to breathe, like she was burning in his veins and the only relief was her kiss. 

“I’m going to Romania tomorrow,” she reminded him, but her long, dark lashes were half-hooding her eyes, the effect dark and seductive.

“But only for a couple of weeks. We’ll talk after that. Stop looking for reasons why I shouldn’t be kissing you senseless right now.”

“You shouldn’t, because I think you want something from me that I don’t think I can give you.”

Sirius pressed his lips together - she thought she wasn’t good enough for him, but Sirius was positive it was the other way around. “You’re thinking too much. All I want is to give you the best snog of your life, so all you’ll think about is me while you’re in Romania.” Sirius looked at her, not breaking eye contact. He could almost see her defences faltering, weakening. The shutters behind her eldritch eyes raised a little.

“Well,” Izza said, sighing in defeat, “you’d better make it memorable, seeing as I’m going to gone for the whole holiday.”

“Finally,” Sirius said, kissing her before she could change her mind.

* * *

 

“Hey, Lily." 

Lily looked around and, realising who had spoken, moved to pull out a chair for Remus. He handed her the spare glass of punch he held and sat down beside her, running a hand through his hair. Then he turned his amber eyes on her, looking tired but happy.

“Hi, Remus. Where’s Marlene?”

“She had to go to the loo. Where is everyone else?”

Lily sat up a little straighter, looking around for their friends. “I haven’t seen Sirius or Izza around for a while. James is dancing with Anna over there -” she pointed, “- and the last I saw of Mary, she was over by the food table talking with Peter, Adina and her twin sister.”

Remus sipped from his glass and smirked at Lily over the rim, looking knowing and a hint mischievous - he got that from the Marauders, she thought. “Where’s lover boy?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “I’ll never hear the end of that, will I?”

Remus’ smirk widened. “Nope. We all saw it, and I’m pretty sure Jack Gillies has photographic evidence.”

Lily groaned. “Fantastic,” she sighed.

Remus stretched his legs out, his head nodding slightly in time to the Hobgoblins’ music. Lily looked at him for a long time, without realising she was staring, and just as she had plucked up the nerve to ask him about what she had seen earlier with Izza, he looked over at her, one brow raised.

“It’s rude to stare.”

Lily smiled briefly. “Sorry. Remus, can I ask you something?”

“That is the most redundant phrase in the history of the universe,” Remus said, opening his arms wide to accompany his sweeping statement.

“Really? You could say that the phrase ‘Can I say something?’ is worse, because when you say ‘Can I ask you a question?’ you imply that you have a different question to ask. But when you say ‘Can I say something?’ you’ve already said something. I suppose it implies that you have to say something else, but still…” Lily trailed off, with a shrug.

Remus was looking at her with furrowed brows and unfocused pupils. “Lily, Sirius has been putting Firewhiskey in my drinks all night, and that made no sense to me.”

Lily laughed. “Actually, it didn’t make much sense to me either.”

Remus tipped his head back and downed the rest of his drink. “Go ahead, Evans.”

“What?”

Remus tipped his head to the side so he could look at her. “You had a question for me.”

“Oh! Right. Okay, so I was… I’ll just -”

Remus patted her knee briefly. “Spit it out, Lils.”

Lily rubbed her hands together nervously. “Okay, I’ll just come out and say it.” She leaned in, so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Do you like Izza?”

“Of course.” Remus looked into his empty glass, then up at Lily, who was still waiting for him to realise what she had actually asked. “Oh. You mean… like _that._ ”

Lily nodded.

Remus picked at his nails, doggedly avoiding Lily’s eye. “What gave you that impression?”

“That weird thing with the bag the other day, and the way you look at her.”

Remus sighed deeply. “Maybe. I don’t know. Yes?”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Remus laughed, a little bitterly. “Izza is so far out of my league, it’s a joke.”

Lily frowned at him. “Apart from that being totally untrue, that’s no reason not to talk to her. Don’t you think she might notice eventually?”

“I was hoping she wouldn’t.”

“Remus -”

He sat up straight and looked her dead in the eye, his gaze imploring. “Lily, please drop it. I can’t even figure out what’s going on in my own head; I don’t need you on my case too.”

They fell silent, and Lily wondered if this was about Sirius. Maybe Remus had noticed the way Sirius seemed to like Izza too, and wasn’t going to say anything because of him. Lily knew that boys had some sort of code they abided by in this situation. And Sirius had always held a sort of sway over Izza, had kind of claimed her first, as his girl confidant.

“Lily, please stop thinking about it.”

She had to laugh - Remus had all but read her mind. “I was not.”

He shot her a ‘yeah, right’ look.

Lily could see Justin weaving his way through the crowd and she waved him over, pulling out a chair for him. He sat down and grinned at her before nodding a hello to Remus. He leaned in, so he could talk to her without anyone else overhearing.

“Let’s meet up over the holidays,” he said. “I don’t reckon I can wait until term starts back to see you again.”

Lily felt a blush rise on her cheeks. “Okay,” she said, nodding.

“Great! I’ll write to you, and we can organise a day to meet up.”

At that point, Marlene reached them and insisted that they all get up and dance with her. It just so happened that, as Lily looked over in the direction of the table that was usually the Ravenclaw table, she caught sight of James and Anna, who were kissing as thoroughly as Justin had kissed her earlier. Lily looked away, feeling a strange twinge in her stomach. The punch mustn’t be agreeing with her, she decided.

* * *

 

Lily fell into bed in the early hours of the morning, without even bothering to unpin her hair. She could hear Izza tossing and turning - though this wasn’t unusual, Izza was the most restless sleeper Lily had ever known - and Mary’s even, steady breathing. She felt so content - the night had been such a success and the thought of handsome Justin Tait made Lily’s heart beat a little faster. 

She would have to thank Mary later. Justin was just what she needed right now - someone to sweep in and distract her from all the darkness that had begun to permeate their lives, and from her own messed up thoughts about Potter, and Sev, and Izza and Black, and Remus and all of it.  

Eventually, Lily drifted off to sleep, dreaming of warm snow, good-looking boys and dancing through forest glades. 


	11. Chapter 10: The Ride Home

_ CHAPTER TEN:  _ _ THE RIDE HOME _

* * *

 

The next morning was a big rush of packing and hunting down belongings that the Gryffindors needed to take home for the holiday. The only chance they got to take some time out was breakfast, and they lingered over it as long as possible. It was almost a bittersweet moment - there was so much uncertainty in the outside world that they all couldn’t help but be a little fearful for each other’s safety.

“I’ve been thinking,” James announced, when they were halfway through breakfast.

“Never a good thing,” Remus murmured, jokingly.

James pretended not to hear. “I was thinking, why doesn’t everyone come stay at my house for a few days? You can come on Christmas day, or Boxing Day. My parents will be able to get us all to Kings Cross for the start of next term, too.”

“I’m going to be there, so I know you all want to come just to see me,” Sirius joked, tossing his beautiful head and preening for them.  

“I’m in,” Remus said, with a shrug. “But not for that ugly mug.” He leveled his index finger at Sirius, and snorted at the affronted look on his friend’s face.

“Me too,” Peter said, through a mouthful of scrambled egg.

“I’ll ask my parents, but I’m sure they’ll say yes,” Marlene said.

“Mine too,” Mary said, clapping her hands together. “It’ll be fun.”

Lily looked at Izza, who was staring at James like she’d never seen him before. “I think I love you,” Izza said weakly.

James raised a brow, then winked and blew a gracious kiss to her. “I don’t blame you, but why?”

Izza grinned. “You just gave me the only reasonable chance I have at getting home from Romania early. I can’t promise anything, but if I tell my grandparents that I’ll be staying with a rich, handsome pureblood friend, they might just release me from my dragon-guarded tower.”

“I’m glad to help,” James said with a grin, leaning over and pinching Izza’s cheek affectionately. “Lily?”

She knew exactly what he was asking, even if he didn’t elaborate. She couldn’t see any harm in agreeing - the whole group would be there and she and James had been getting along well… “Sure,” she said, “I’ll ask my parents.”

James looked momentarily thrilled, before the arrival of the owl post distracted him. A huge grey owl dropped a thick envelope in front of Izza, and wheeled back towards the windows with two powerful downbeats of its wings. Sirius’ owl also had something for him - something written on heavy, fancy parchment.

Izza made a small noise and everyone looked at her.

“What’s that?” Marlene asked, gesturing to the letter Izza had received.

Izza smirked in a very self-satisfied manner, eyes scanning the parchment. “A three page letter from Stubby Boardman, detailing how much he enjoyed meeting me and expressing his admiration for my many amenable qualities.”

“Three pages?” Mary shrieked, nearly upending a jug of pumpkin juice in her eagerness to snatch the letter from Izza and read it.

Izza nodded. “I’m glad it was only three. Four or five might be a little stalkerish,” she said contemplatively.

“What a prat,” Remus and Sirius said simultaneously.

“What do you mean?” Lily asked, in disbelief. “That’s so sweet.”

“Boardman was just trying to get into your skirt. Bloody rock stars.” Sirius rolled his eyes and stabbed at a kipper.

Izza raised a sarcastic brow. “You are such hypocrites. Allow me to imitate the entire male population of Hogwarts.” She arranged her expression into one that was aloof and supremely cocky. “Hi,” she said, offering her hand to an imaginary neighbour. “I’m a boy. Can I have sex with you now?”

“That’s uncanny,” Marlene said, playing along.

“What’s yours?” Izza asked, shaking off her character when the boys had no further snarky quips and gesturing to the letter in Sirius’ hand.

“A wedding invitation,” Sirius said, his face suddenly hard. “My cousin Narcissa is marrying Lucius Malfoy. Plus one note from my father telling me that I have to go, or else. ‘ _This is your last chance to redeem yourself, Sirius,’_ ” he read aloud, his voice bitter. “As if I’m going to go.”

They were saved any awkwardness following that little announcement by the food melting from the golden plates and breakfast ending. Before too long, they were sitting in the carriages and bumping their way down the track and to the train, then piling onto the Hogwarts Express and hurtling back towards London. 

Sirius had stuffed the invitation away in his bag, where he couldn’t see it, but he’d already memorised the note from his father that had accompanied it.

_Sirius,_

_Whether it was by your doing or not, your brother has practically begged your Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus to allow you to attend Narcissa’s wedding. He seems to think you deserve one more chance._

_There is no choice in this matter, Sirius. You will attend Narcissa’s wedding. This is your last chance to redeem yourself, and you will not let us down again. Your mother holds a small hope that you will remember who you are and where you come from._

_We will see you on the 29th._

Orion had added his signature to the bottom of the note, as if Sirius was an old business associate, instead of his son.

Of course, Narcissa just _had_ to get married to the biggest wanker in the wizarding world, Sirius thought, a slimy, pompous asshole who had a whole family worth of other pompous assholes who’d also be in attendance. That bitch. He couldn’t think of anything worse than spending a whole day in the company of his entire prejudiced family and all the Malfoys too. And besides, he didn’t _want_ to redeem himself - what the hell was Regulus playing at, anyway? He didn’t need his brother’s help, or his pity.

Izza stood up and Sirius looked at her. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“The loo,” she said, grabbing his shoulder to steady herself as the train swayed.

“I’ll come with you. I need to stretch my legs.” He wanted to get up and walk around, and clear his head.

* * *

 

Lily’s shoulder and arm was starting to fall asleep. Marlene had fallen asleep on her, and Mary, who was also snoring, was leaning on Marlene, so Lily couldn’t even push her gently in the other direction. In fact, Remus and Peter were sleeping, too - everyone was exhausted after the ball the previous night. Only she and James were awake, seeing as Izza and Sirius hadn’t returned yet. 

James was staring out the window, but unlike the last few times Lily had caught him staring at nothing, it wasn’t a brooding look. There was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips and he actually looked quite content.

“What?” he asked, looking over suddenly and catching her staring.

“Nothing,” Lily said, looking away and willing the heat in her cheeks to go away.

“Do you reckon you’ll come stay at my house?” he asked after a moment, a little hesitantly.

Lily nodded, looking back to him. “Yeah, I think so. Everyone else is going to, so I don’t see why not. We’ve gotten along lately, haven’t we?”

James smiled. He had a really nice smile (when it wasn’t his ‘I’m-plotting-something-super-nefarious’ smirk, of course). What was with all these boys and their nice smiles? “We have. I knew you’d warm up to me eventually.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lilykins.”

* * *

 

“Izza?” Sirius said, as they made their way back to the compartment, pausing to let a pair of Slytherins squeeze past them.

“Mmm?” she answered absently. She stopped and leaned against the window, waiting for him to go on.

Sirius felt nervous all of a sudden, which he didn’t like at all. He waited for another girl to brush past them on the way back to her compartment before saying, “I- I wanted to ask you something.”

Izza smiled at him. “Well, go ahead then. You know I don’t bite. Unless I’m asked nicely.” At least she seemed in a better mood with him, even if she was sad to be going to Romania. She always withdrew from them before having to go home, as if distancing herself would stop her from missing her friends while she was away.

Sirius laughed, glad she had diffused his own tension for him. “You know how I mentioned that wedding - my cousin Narcissa is marrying Lucius Malfoy?”

Izza looked at him and raised a curious brow. “I thought you weren’t going?”

Sirius sighed and looked down at his hands. “I’ve decided it isn’t worth the fight that’ll result if I don’t go. My mother may have disinherited me, but I know she’s hoping I’ll come crawling back on my knees, begging forgiveness. That’ll be the only reason I’m invited.”

Izza looked pensive. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So what did you want to ask me?”

Sirius took a deep breath. “Well, I was wondering if maybe… you would go with me?” He looked down at her hopefully. “I was considering taking a Muggleborn, just to piss my dear mother off, but then I thought, it’d be so much less painful for me if you partnered me. Your family is respectable-” Izza made a noise of derision “- at least in my family’s eyes, which will hopefully keep them off my back.” He shot her his most charming grin. “Plus, we have fun together, don’t we? You won’t be completely bored, I promise. My Uncle Alphard will be there, he’s an absolute riot - he’s the only one of them I actually like.”

Izza was looking at him curiously as he chattered, hearing himself over-talking and yet strangely powerless to stop. “Sirius, do you realise I’d go with you just because you asked? You don’t need to try and convince me - I’d do it for _you_ in a heartbeat.”

Sirius’ breath caught in his throat and his heart picked up speed. He’d hoped to hear something like that from her ever since the first time he kissed her - something that gave the slightest hint she felt something for him that wasn’t just platonic.

He stood in front of her and leaned in, trapping her against the window with one hand pressed against the glass. “Sirius, what are you doing?” she murmured, her eyes flickering to his lips briefly.

He looked her dead in the eye and lifted his other hand to rest on her neck. “This,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers softly, tentatively. It was a kiss and a question.

Izza answered his question in a way that a part of Sirius hadn’t really been expecting. So rarely did Izza open herself up and let her emotions take hold, but if the way she threaded her fingers through Sirius’ hair and pulled him back for another, far more intense kiss was any indication of the way she felt, then he was all but certain it was along the lines of his own feelings.

He’d never had a simple kiss evoke such fiery emotions in him; he wanted to be closer to Izza, closer than would be decent in such a public place. He tried to let her know, through the kiss, what she was doing to him. Sirius felt himself smiling against her lips - he would wear her down eventually.

He pulled away and looked her in the eye. “I know you said you weren’t promising anything,” he said, leaning in and kissing Izza again, softly, sweetly. “But think about it - us - while you’re away. When you get back, we can decide where to go from here.”

“Okay,” she murmured, in a soft voice that bought goosebumps to his skin.

* * *

 

All too soon they were pulling into Kings Cross and disembarking the train. Immediately, Lily noticed a difference - instead of milling around, chatting happily, the waiting parents had clustered in small groups with people they knew, and were waiting impatiently to just grab their kids and go. No one wanted to linger in the open. The air was cold and the relative quiet of Platform 9 and 3/4 felt so very wrong, so _unnatural_.  

Izza’s brother, Kes, was the first to greet them; he picked his sister up in a tight embrace. Lily thought he looked a little thinner since the last time she had seen him, and there were pronounced dark circles under his eyes.

He spared them all a terse nod. “We have to go, Isadora,” he said, checking his watch.

To their enormous surprise, Izza hugged each and every one of them before Kes put an arm around her shoulders and led her away into the crowd.

“That was quick,” Mary said.

“They probably want to get going before nightfall,” Peter reasoned.

Peter’s mother was the next to reach them, and she too whisked her son away, almost before they could say goodbye. Marlene and Remus spotted their parents talking together and bade goodbye to the group with the promise that they would see them at James’ house after Christmas. Mary’s dad came over and introduced himself briefly, before Mary too was gone, and it was just Lily, James and Sirius left on the platform together.

“Are your parents coming?” James asked Lily.

She nodded. “I think I just saw them coming through the barrier.” Her Muggle parents were easy to spot - they always looked amazed but incredibly out of place in this magical setting.

“Well, hang on,” James said, catching her arm before she could leave. “Come and meet my parents for a sec.”

Lily followed James and Sirius over to where an older couple stood together; a tall man with dark hair that was peppered liberally with grey and a slight woman with thick, grey curls. Sirius was the first to reach them; Mrs. Potter grabbed him in a tight hug and pressed noisy kisses to his face, while he bore it with a loving grin. She then did the same thing to her son, who groaned and tried half-heartedly to push her off, far less gracious than his friend was. Lily hung slightly back, a little smile on her lips - Mrs. Potter seemed lovely, she had to admit.

Mr Potter was a little more reserved in his affection; he hugged both the boys and ruffled their hair in an affectionate way. James looked very much like his father, Lily thought, and not much like his mother - though he had her interesting hazel eyes.

Mrs. Potter spotted Lily and a smile lit up her face. “This must be the famous Lily Evans,” she said, taking Lily’s hand and pulling her forward. “James told us you were Head Girl with him, and he said we’d know you by your hair.” Mrs. Potter touched Lily’s long hair. “It’s lovely.”

Lily blushed and looked at James, who appeared to be very interested in checking the time on Sirius’ watch, even though Lily knew for a fact that James always wore a watch himself. “Thank you,” she said, a little shyly.

“Me-me, you’re embarrassing her,” Sirius said, grinning. “Carry on, and her face might go the same colour as her hair.”

Mrs. Potter shook her head affectionately and pretended to smack Sirius on the head. “Stop it, you. I’m Euphemia,” she said, shaking Lily’s hand. “And this is my husband, Fleamont.”

“Monty,” Mr Potter corrected, smiling kindly.

Lily shook Mr Potter’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she said, a little distractedly. She could see her parents; they had spotted her and were hanging back, waiting for her to finish up. “Well, my parents are waiting, so I better go. I’ll see you both later,” she said to Sirius and James. “It was nice to meet you,” she said to Mr and Mrs. Potter, and the four waved to her as she went over to her parents.       

“Something we should know?” Lily’s father asked, when she reached them, indicating James and his parents.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Funny, dad. No, that’s just James Potter. He’s the Head Boy.”

“He’s not bad-looking,” Mrs. Evans said cheekily, looking over her shoulder at James, as Lily pushed her parents in the direction of the barrier. “His friend is _gorgeous_. You didn’t tell us the boy wizards looked like _that_ darling!”

“Mum!” Lily groaned, embarrassed. “Stop, please.”

Mrs Evans smiled and kissed her daughter on the cheek. “I’m just saying…”

Lily knew she wouldn’t get out of this teasing easily, so she tried to nip it in the bud. “His friend’s name is Sirius, and I’m pretty sure he’s got it bad for Izza.”

The mention of Izza was sufficiently distracting, much to Lily’s relief. “Where is Izza?” Mrs Evans asked, looking around as though Izza might appear out of thin air at the mention of her name.

“She and her brother had to dash off. They’re going home to Romania for Christmas.”

“Shame,” Mrs Evans said, as they exited the station and headed for the car. “It would have been nice to say hello.”

Lily let her father deal with her trunk, while she climbed into the backseat and settled back, feeling somewhat tired. It was strange to think that the first part of the school year was already over. Lily didn’t want school to end - she was perfectly happy in her little niche at Hogwarts, and didn’t feel at all ready for life after education and for the realities of adulthood.

“Will Petunia be around for Christmas?” Lily asked her mother, when she got into the front seat.

“Yes, and Vernon, too.” 

“Oh, what joy,” Lily said, deadpan. Christmas with sour Vernon - what fun!

Mrs Evans sighed. “I know he’s not the most pleasant person, Lily, but he’s your sisters’ husband. You just have to tolerate him.”   

“Mum?”

“Hmm?”

Lily bit her lip. She’d never asked to go and stay at a boy’s house before - hence she thought it best to do so while her father was still out of earshot. “Um, James invited the whole group to go stay at his house for a few days after Christmas. Can I go?”

Mr and Mrs Evans were pretty easy-going people, but Lily was sure her dad at least would have some reservations about Lily staying at the house of some boy he hadn’t met. She hoped the mention of the group would improve her chances.

“I don’t see why not,” Mrs Evans said after a moment’s thought. “Will the other girls be there?”

Lily couldn’t believe how easy that had been. Yes, she was seventeen, and legally an adult in the wizarding world, but her parents still tended to think of her as their baby. Plus, in the Muggle world of course, she wasn’t eighteen yet and therefore not of age. “Yeah, Mary and Marlene will be, and hopefully Izza will get back in time, too.”

Mrs Evans was smiling reminiscently. “Did I ever tell you I took a month long holiday with my two best friends when I was eighteen?”

“No!” Lily said, sitting up straight. “I never knew that.”

“My friend Dot had a car. We took it and spent a month on the road.”

“You rebel, Mum!”

“Of course, I ended up meeting your father in a pub, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“What’s history?” Mr Evans asked, sliding into the drivers’ seat.

“Your history is history,” Lily said, grinning.

“Makes sense,” Mr Evans said, indicating and pulling out onto the road. “It’s good to have you back, love.”


	12. Chapter 11: Lazarus Rising

**_ PART TWO:  _ ** **_ TROUBLE ON THE WAY _ **

_‘Like the naked leads the blind,_

_I know I’m selfish, I’_ _m unkind,_

_Sucker love, I always find,_

_Someone to bruise and leave behind.’_

_-_

_Placebo_

**_ CHAPTER ELEVEN: LAZARUS RISING _ **

As a frigid wind blasted and bit at every inch of exposed skin, Izza cursed the pureblood aversion to Muggle technology and the fact that it was impossible to reach her home unless it was on foot, horseback or by a small carriage. There was also the option of broomsticks or her family’s winged horses, but it was cold enough on the ground without flying through the freezing air as well. Plus, a snow storm appeared to be blowing in; the clouds were thick and iron grey, menacing looking. Only a fool would fly in such weather – even wizards and witches weren’t immune to being fried by lightning.  

Izza and Kes had been met on the outskirts of the nearest village to their home by their stable hand, Gheorghe, who had worked for their family forever (in fact, his ancestors had aligned themselves with the Moldovan family centuries ago). They had quickly rugged up in the warmest gear they had on hand, before mounting their horses and beginning the ascent up the steep, small path that wound through the mountains.

Their family home was nestled deep in the Carpathians, in a valley southwest of Sibiu. The only view of civilisation from their home was out the north windows, in fact; the north peak was the smallest and the closest village (where Gheorghe had met them) was only just visible in the distance.

Izza pushed her chin down, trying to protect her face from the bitter wind with her thick scarf. To her great relief, they were finally approaching the literal fork in the road which would take them home. If one took the left fork, they would continue on through the mountains. If they took the right fork, they would find themselves on a narrow, treacherous little path that led straight into rock, which apparently blocked the way. However, four sharp taps with a wand and the word ‘ _deschisa_ ’ - the Romanian word for ‘open’ - and the rock would slide easily out of the way, revealing the path. 

Eventually, this trail opened up onto the valley. It was the most beautiful place on earth, in Izza’s opinion – an Elysium hidden away from the rest of the world. In the winter, as it was now, everything was covered in a crisp, thick blanket of snow. The man-made dam had turned into a frozen lake, and Izza knew that the trees of her grandfather’s orchard, on the other side of the property, would be bare and snow-heavy.

The castle - there was really no other word for it - seemed to rise from the mountains itself. It was a seemingly eclectic mix of towers and levels, but the truth was, it was a virtual fortress, skirted by curtain walls, which were surmounted with battlements, and not a single stone was out of place. Cylindrical flanking towers rose forbiddingly on either side of the gatehouse and, adding all that to the fact that it was magically protected too, it was damn near impenetrable. It was beautiful, in Izza’s opinion.

And it was home, despite everything. Izza let out a sigh as it came into view, for despite her feelings about her grandparents, the fact remained that this was the home of her childhood, the home of her fondest, pre-Hogwarts memories. Her eyes swept from the stables, where her grandmother’s winged horses lived to the north wing of the castle, where her bedroom was.

“Welcome home,” Kes said, as the portcullis was lifted and they entered into the courtyard. He slid down off his horse, gave its nose an affectionate rub, and then offered Izza his gloved hands. She took them gratefully - she wasn’t a short girl, but the horse Gheorghe had bought, Thunder - named for his inky coat - stood at least seventeen hands; they had to be powerful, but sure-footed to navigate the treacherous path up the mountain.

She handed her reins to Gheorghe, who smiled and touched her cheek. “Welcome home, Miss Isidora.”

“Thank you, Gheorghe,” she murmured, drawing her cloak tighter around herself.

“Come,” Kes said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Everyone is eagerly awaiting you.”

Izza followed her brother inside, up a small flight of stairs and into her grandmother’s sitting room. This was an airy, light-filled room with large windows and high ceilings, and an assortment of comfortable antique armchairs and couches.

Kes had always had a flair for the dramatic - as he banged open the heavy door, he lifted his cloak to conceal Izza. When he had everyone’s attention, he let it drop.

Dorina, Izza’s grandmother, was the first to react.

“Isidora!” she shrieked, leaping out of her chair quicker than one would expect from a woman her age.

Izza allowed her grandmother to hug her and kiss her cheek. “Hello, grandmother,” she said.

Her grandfather, Vasile, approached her and kissed her on the forehead. He, like his granddaughter, despised unnecessary affection and invasion of personal space, like hugging. “So like your father,” Vasile observed, lifting her chin so he could look at her. Vasile was far more tempered than his wife; less histrionic, and though he believed in keeping their line pure like his wife, he was far less likely to be outspoken on matters of blood status or politics.

A quick glance around the room told Izza that the pretty much the whole family was gathered. Her aunts had all stood at her entrance, and they clustered around her now, clicking like hens and tugging at her. The first to reach her was Iulia, the youngest of the three sisters, and the most beautiful. She looked the most like Izza’s father. Then there was Andreea, the middle daughter, who had a lovely figure and nice eyes set in her thin face. And finally, there was Diana, the oldest daughter, and her three children: Serban, who was thirty and with a seven-year-old son, Nicolae, of his own; Catrinel, who was twenty-seven and about seven months pregnant with her first child after years of trying; and Yvonne, who was twenty-five and had a two-year-old girl, Ioana.

Andreea’s daughter, Ivanka, who was the one getting married soon, and her son, Ioan, were also there; they both greeted their cousin with hugs and kisses. Iulia had only one child, a son named Matei, who, at twenty-two, was the youngest of the cousins except for Kes and Izza. 

Just when Izza thought she could take a breath, Dumitru (Andreea’s husband), Constantin (Iulia’s husband), Petre (Diana’s husband), plus Stefan and Radu (Catrinel and Yvonne’s’ respective spouses) entered the room, and she was passed around again, in another round of greetings. The only people she hadn’t seen yet were Maria - Serban’s wife - and Cezar - Ivanka’s fiancé.

Kes seemed to sense that she was exhausted from the journey and the marathon round of greetings and he ushered her into the closest chair, at which point trays of food were presented to her and cups of coffee were pressed into her hand. Izza almost smiled - and people wondered why she liked to be alone.

There was a bit of catching up with news and a few less-than subtle suggestions that Izza take up Headmaster Kostova’s offer of a position at the St Petersburg Academy, before she and Kes excused themselves with the professed intention of going to change out of their travelling clothes and freshen up a little before dinner, which was always a big, noisy lengthy affair when everyone was home. Izza was eager for the chance to have five minutes of peace. 

Kes and Izza’s rooms made up the whole north wing of the castle. Kes’ room faced the west - the front of the property - and Izza’s faced the east. Enormous double doors made of dark, silky wood marked the entrance to her room, which was divided into three levels. The doors opened onto the middle section and the first thing that anyone who entered saw was the massive picture window, which stretched from floor to ceiling and which had a view of the whole of the back of the property, from her grandfather’s orchard with the wildwood beyond it and the surrounding mountains. The two middle panes opened out onto the balcony. A beautiful old antique couch set was in the middle of this section and the floor was polished stone that was magically warm in winter. 

If one went to the right, they would go up two steps and through a set of folding French-style doors and the stone gave way to plush carpet. This was the actual bed area of the bedroom - her bed, the head of which rested against the south wall, was a huge four-poster with a deep plum bedspread (if it wasn’t obvious, Izza’s ancestors had a real penchant for grandeur). To the right of the bed were two doors - one on either side of the fireplace. One led to the ensuite and the other to the walk in robe. To the left was another window shaped like the top three faces of a hexagon, with diamond panes. It had a soft window seat with cushions of the same deep plum as the duvet. Izza liked to nestle there in the winter sun and read.

If one went to the left after entering the room, they would go up two steps. This left section of the room was like a personal library - wood panelled bookshelves stretched from roof to floor and they were all filled with books. A large grandfather clock was set into the north wall. Izza’s desk sat in the middle of this section.

Izza threw herself onto her bed and sighed contentedly - there was nothing in the world like the feeling of one’s own bed. Within minutes, she was asleep.

* * *

 

“We leave on Thursday,” Dorina informed Izza, that night at dinner. They were in the formal dining room, seated at the long, polished wood table - the only one equipped to seat every member of the family. Izza sat next to Kes, who sat on their grandfather’s right. It was no secret that Izza and Kes were the favourite grandchildren, best loved by their grandparents and quietly favoured. Dorina was opposite Kes, on her husband’s left. Vasile sat at the head of the table. 

Izza nodded, but didn’t bother to answer out loud, instead reaching for her goblet, which was full of her grandmother’s toe-curling, divine ţuică. Thursday was the twenty-third, and, as they would be travelling by horseback to Elisabeta and Stere Diaconu’s property, it would take them the whole of Thursday and most of Friday to get there. The closest anyone could get to the Diaconu’s property by magic - Apparition or Portkey - was on the other side of a large lake, which would mean a long hike in the snow.

Centuries ago, when the Moldovan’s had first settled their area, they had formed an alliance with three of the most powerful and pure blooded families in the region: the Diaconu’s, who lived in the forest surrounding Lake Vidraru, which was east of the Moldovan’s home; the Florea’s, of Hunedoara and the Anghel’s, who lived on the outskirts of Sibiu. Every year since then, they had taken it in turns to host a masquerade on Christmas Eve; this year, it was the Diaconu’s turn.

Izza usually liked the party - she liked to dress up and put on a mask because she loved the mystique of it all. But, more than that, she was looking forward to seeing her oldest friend again. She and Vladimir Diaconu had been playmates, almost since before they were born, and they had been inseparable in their childhood. He had taken her move away to England quite hard and they wrote each other regularly.

But first, she would have to get through her cousins’ engagement party on Wednesday. She crossed her fingers that her grandmother had not kept in contact with Borislav.

* * *

 

On Tuesday, Izza helped Gheorghe exercise the winged horses. They were all Granians - grey in colour and particularly quick. They were Izza’s grandmother’s pet project; for years she had bred them, and her horses had the reputation of being some of the fastest in all of Romania. They made a tidy little fortune for her grandmother each year.

For Izza’s part, she was using them as an excuse to get out of the house. There was lots going on, with food being prepared for Ivanka’s party and clothes to be packed ready for their journey east. She wasn’t trying to be selfish by avoiding work, but after listening to her grandmother list all the eligible pureblood boys who would be at the Christmas party all morning, she had needed to get out for a while, lest she snap and upend a cauldron of bubbling soup.

Izza loved the property in winter. Surrounded by mountains, and with the land covered in a thick layer of snow, it was incredibly peaceful. It wasn’t the easiest environment to make home, but they bred people tough in their area, and there was nothing Izza enjoyed more than standing on a vantage point and surveying the castle, the frozen dam and the wildwood that surrounded them like a protective wall, feeling the wind bite at her like the fingers of freedom, pulling and urging.

“It’s nearly dinnertime, Miss Isidora,” Gheorghe called to her, dismounting.

Izza pulled her horse to a stop and patted his neck as he tossed his head, as if to say ‘why have we stopped?’ “For me, or for him?” she asked, smiling and gesturing at the horse.

“Him, of course,” Gheorghe said, his expression playful.

“Of course.” Izza unhooked her leg from the specialised flying harness and slid to the ground. She handed the reins to Gheorghe, who tipped his head at her.

“Have you and Anca missed me, Gheorghe?” Izza asked, walking with him back to the stables. Anca was Gheorghe’s wife; she worked for them as a housemaid, and she was the loveliest, happiest woman anyone could ever meet; she was forever plying Izza with delicious sweet treats, telling her she was too thin.

Gheorghe nodded. “You’re my favourite flying partner, as you well know. We’re not the only ones, though.”

Izza raised a brow at him. Gheorghe saw things and heard things, naturally, because he was always around. That was both the burden and the bonus of serving the aristocracy.  “What do you mean?”

“Master Vlad wrote Mistress Dorina several times to make sure you would be coming home for Christmas - a flurry of owls like you’ve never seen it was, Miss.”

Izza smiled; she couldn’t wait to see her old friend. It had been too long.

* * *

 

The path east through the mountains, towards Lake Vidraru, was long and cold, but very picturesque. Izza had travelled this path many times before, but the moment the shimmering lake, which carved through the mountains, came into view always took her breath away every single time.

They skirted the lake, picking a path between the towering trees. Eventually, they reached an area that had been cleared, to make space for a sprawling fourteenth-century manor house. The stones had seen centuries of weather and generations of the Diaconu family; this experience leant an old world beauty to the building, as if it had risen magically from the ground itself and was as natural and fell as the surrounds.

It was late afternoon and the shadows were beginning to lengthen between the trees, the light was starting to dim and the air temperature was dropping. Pixies chattered in the bushes, and Izza even spotted a _peri_ watching them from the hollow of a tree with shimmering bi-coloured eyes - one unnaturally blue and the other a vivid, poisonous green.

“Come along,” Vasile called, from the head of the group, and they headed toward the manor. Izza, who had stopped and dismounted to offer the _peri_ a wineskin of ţuică, as was respectful, curtsied to the faerie-woman and remounted, urging Thunder through the snow drifts.

Four stable hands and Stere and Elisabeta Diaconu - Vlad’s grandparents - greeted them on the steps of the porch.

“Vlad is in town with his father,” Elisabeta said, with a knowing smile when Izza reached her. “He should be back tonight.” She opened her arms to the whole Moldovan clan. “Meanwhile, everyone come in. We’ll show you to your rooms and you can all have a rest before the party tonight.”

The Diaconu’s had plenty of bedrooms, but lots of guests too, which meant Izza was sharing a room with her brother, Matei and Ivanka. She didn’t mind so much; Matei didn’t take much of anything too seriously, and Ivanka, despite her tendency to be vain and shallow, was at heart a nice girl. The evening passed in a blur; food was bought up to them around dinnertime, and they spent the hours getting ready for the masquerade.

Izza looked at herself in the mirror. Her dress was a silk, backless floor-sweeping gown in a deep oxblood colour. She had a satiny plum-coloured mask to go with it, which made the particularly vivid violet-blue of her eyes stand out. The only jewellery she wore was a golden protective eye bracelet and her Moldovan ring - she didn’t need adornments or trinkets, she shone on her own. Her dark hair was freshly washed, but she had made it so it was dead straight, like on the night of the Merlin ball. She looked good, and she knew it.

The cousins waited around for a while, had a couple of glasses of Firewhiskey together, holding off going downstairs until they knew most of the guests would have arrived.

Kes offered Izza his arm when they were ready to go down to the ballroom. “I hope Borislav wasn’t invited,” Kes said quietly, a wicked smile on his lips. “Seeing you in that dress would probably give him a heart attack.”

“Because that would be _such_ a shame,” Izza said sarcastically.

When they got downstairs and the doors to the ballroom were opened for them, Izza dropped her brother’s arm and immediately began to search. She _always_ won the game; who, out of her and Vlad, would be the first to find the other with their masks on?

“I win,” a dark, velvety voice murmured in her ear.

She whipped around, unable to prevent the smile that came to her lips upon seeing Vladimir Diaconu again. He was an exceptionally handsome young man; tall, with dark hair and blue-grey eyes, and broad shoulders like his father. His mask was plain black, to go with his black dress robes.

“What, no hug for your oldest and bestest friend?” Vlad asked, pretending to be offended. He threw his arms around her and picked her up off the ground, twirling her around. “Come on,” he said once he had put her back down, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor. “Let’s dance. I’m sure you don’t get much practice in dreary England.”

Izza laughed as Vlad twirled her, then pulled her in close, slipping an arm around her waist. “Actually, they’re not total barbarians. Some of them can dance.”

As they danced, Izza happened to catch sight of her grandmother, who was watching them like a hawk, but with a smile on her face. Izza rolled her eyes; her grandmother would probably love nothing better than for Izza to marry Vlad; it would be a match made in pureblood heaven. Actually, if Izza was going to be forced to marry anyone for the sake of a respectable pureblood marriage, she would prefer it to be Vlad. They were friends, after all, and at least she liked him, as opposed to someone like Borislav.

“My grandmother is watching us,” she murmured. “You know what she’s plotting, right? She’ll have Elisabeta on her side in an instant, and then we’ll have all of them on our case. I can see her planning floral arrangements in her head as we speak.”

“Ha! Marry you?” Vlad laughed. “A man would be mental to have you,” he joked. “Too wild of heart, too free-spirited and deeply opinionated - not at all the good and obedient wife you should be.” Vlad was jesting, Izza knew, but she always bit back a little - someone had to keep him in line.

“You think so little of me?”

Vlad smiled, cupping her face with his hands, his blue-grey eyes soft. “I think the world of you. You know I’m joking.”

Izza pressed her lips together as Vlad held her face a little longer than was necessary. For a while now, she had suspected that Vlad’s feelings for her weren’t entirely platonic, as they had been as children, but she wasn’t quite sure how to quash that without offending him.

“So, tell me what’s new?” Vlad questioned, finally dropping his hands so they could continue to dance. “Are you seeing anyone in England?”

Izza thought of Sirius, and of what he had said to her the last time she saw him. She was supposed to be thinking about the two of them together, considering what they should do about the fact that neither of them seemed to be able to stop kissing the other… the idea of pursuing anything with Sirius terrified her. Still, she could almost feel those intensely beautiful grey eyes of his looking at her. She could almost feel him kissing her…

_Stop it,_ she scolded herself. She had to get Sirius Black out of her head. The way he made her feel… she didn’t like it - well, she didn’t _not_ like it, but that was the problem. It made her feel out of control and powerless and - there she went again. _Stop it._

“No,” she said, quite firmly, trying to convince herself more than Vlad, who didn’t know any better.

“Good,” Vlad said, with a slight smile. He pulled her closer. “None of them would be good enough for you, anyway.”

Izza raised a brow at him. “You sound like my brother.”

“That’s not so bad. Your brother is a good man,” Vlad said, lowering her into a dip.

He pulled her upright as the song ended and they bowed to each other. “I’m thirsty,” Vlad said, running a hand through his hair to smooth were it had become ruffled during the dancing. “Do you want a drink?”

Izza nodded and followed him to the bar. They had barely reached it before they were accosted by Dorina and Elisabeta. Vlad allowed Dorina to kiss him, shooting Izza a wry, knowing smile.

“Look at you, Vladimir,” Dorina said, looking him up and down. “Such a handsome boy… isn’t he, Isidora?”

“He is indeed,” Izza said dryly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “He looks even better without his clothes on.”

It took Dorina and Elisabeta a brief moment to work out that she was joking, and they laughed delightedly, as if she had announced she was going to marry him.

“You always did have a sharp wit, Isidora, like your father,” Elisabeta said, taking Izza’s hand and squeezing it affectionately. “You look beautiful in that dress. Isn’t that right, Vlad?”

Vlad was struggling not to burst out in laughter - it was so damn obvious what the grandmothers were trying to do. “Oh yes, grandmother,” he said, fighting to keep a straight face. “Though I’m sure she looks even better out of it.”

“Will you be returning to us when school is over, Isidora?” Elisabeta asked curiously, ignoring her grandson’s impertinence. Translation, Izza thought: will you return to Romania and marry my grandson? The pureblood community would throw a month long party if the Moldovan and Diaconu houses united.

“Of course she will be,” Dorina said, looking at Izza.

“I’m not sure yet,” Izza told Elisabeta, pretending she hadn’t heard her grandmother. “I’m going to see what happens.”

“Aren’t they having some trouble in England at the moment?” Elisabeta said, frowning.

Vlad pressed a glass of Firewhiskey into Izza’s hand and she shot him a grateful look - he knew her too well. “Yes, a bit,” she said, not bothering to elaborate.

“Well, grandmother,” Vlad said, taking Izza’s arm. “If you’re done insinuating that Isidora and I get married, I’ll steal her away for the next dance.”

Far from being insulted, both Dorina and Elisabeta looked thrilled. “Of course, of course,” Elisabeta said. “You children run along,” she urged.

As they walked away, Izza looked up at Vlad, shaking her head. “Don’t you find it annoying that they’re plotting and scheming to get us together, but your grandmother still calls us _children_?”

Vlad laughed. “Just ignore them, Iz. Smile and nod in the right places, but ignore them. It’s always worked for me.”

* * *

 

Like the good little girl that she was (ha!), Izza made the rounds, saying hello and talking briefly to all the people she was expected to say hello to and making tedious small talk with them. They all asked the same questions - when are you coming home? Have you found a suitor? Does your brother expect to marry soon? (Kes, of course, was expected to provide an heir for the Moldovan’s). Her standard answers were: I don’t know, No, and No.

Eventually, she escaped from the tedium and headed straight for the bar. She sat up on a barstool and gestured to the bartender.

“Yes?” he asked, smiling at her. He was quite good-looking… she banished that thought as quickly as it came. Good-looking boys were the current bane of her life.

“Firewhiskey, please.”

“Mixed?”

Izza looked at him as though he might be criminally insane. “No, thanks.” You didn’t ruin perfect, beautiful Firewhiskey by _mixing_ it.

The bartender put a glass filled with ice down in front of her and poured the rich, amber Firewhiskey into it. There were little bowls of fruits right along the bar; blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, and, Izza’s personal favourite, a bowl full of glistening, deep red pomegranate seeds. She reached out and took a few, putting them into her mouth and sucking the blood red juice off her fingertips.

All of a sudden, Vlad was next to her, leaning against the bar. He had a rose in his hand, which he held up to her nose. She inhaled its scent and nodded.

“Pretty.” 

He took her hand and put the rose into it. “Good idea,” he said, stealing her glass and taking a drink from it. “Firewhiskey makes everything better.”

“Yes, it does,” Izza said, taking her drink back and downing the rest of it. Vlad signalled to the bartender for two more. “Or at least, the more you drink, the less you care if everything is actually awful.”

They sat together, watching people dancing - some well, and some badly - and mingling, gossiping idly about who was talking to who, and who had fallen from grace while Izza had been abroad.

“Vlad, I’ve been thinking,” Izza began, a beat after draining her drink, while the Firewhiskey was still burning in her blood.

He lowered his glass, looking at her sidelong. “Not good.”

She shot him a look. “Shut up.”

He looked contrite, though the corners of his lips twitched. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

She looked down into her glass. “You and I… we have something, don’t we?”

Vlad’s expression was unreadable. “Of course. You are my oldest friend.”

Izza looked him dead in the eye. “Well, what if we have an understanding, too?”

Vlad’s expression changed from inscrutable to confused. A little groove formed between his eyebrows as they pulled together. “What do you mean?”

“There is a very good chance my grandparents will try and force me to marry someone of their choosing, and I was thinking...if I have to marry someone because of their last name or because of their blood… if my grandparents try to force me into a suitable marriage… I want it to be you.”

Vlad was speechless for a moment. “You want… but you’re living in England. You have the chance to make your own choices.”

She held his gaze. “When have we ever been free to make our own choices? Look at my mother. The purest blood in the world couldn’t make my grandparents like her, because she was Swedish. You really think they would ever let me be with a Briton?” Izza held up her hand, so Vlad couldn’t miss the Moldovan ring on her finger. “The more I try to escape, the more they find ways to pull me back in."

Vlad looked at her for a long time before nodding. “Okay. So, you and me… one day. But Izza, you know that I want you to try and get out of this life, if you can. You have the best chance of any of us. Let others do the family duty.”

Izza frowned. “Of course I will - I have a life in England I don’t plan on relinquishing easily. But I also wouldn’t put it past them to cut me off or stop me seeing Kes, it I don’t do as they say. I don’t want to end up marrying a stranger. If I have to marry anyone for the sake of respectability, I want it to be my friend.”

“Oh my,” a voice said, from behind them. “You _are_ a Moldovan, aren’t you? So much scheming, always thinking six moves ahead of the game.”

Izza turned, her eyes falling on a tall, slender woman with bright blonde hair that was cropped stylishly, so that it just brushed her shoulders. The woman reached up and removed her plain black mask, revealing pale blue eyes.

Recognition flooded through Izza in cold waves - the woman hadn’t changed a bit since Izza had last seen her, as a child. She glanced at Vlad; he looked as confused and surprised and suspicious as she felt.

“Remember me?” the woman asked, her smile dangerous.

Izza felt Vlad put a reassuring hand on her arm. “Mother?” she said, fighting to keep her voice even. “You’re supposed to be dead.”


	13. Chapter 12: How Deep The Bruises Lie

**_ CHAPTER TWELVE: HOW DEEP THE BRUISES LIE _ **

Lily set her bag down and rang the doorbell of the Potter’s house, still in awe of it. It was a gorgeous, sprawling country house, surrounded by snow-laden trees. It was set away from the road at the end of a long driveway, so it was quiet and serene. Lily loved it - James Potter was so lucky.

The door swung open to reveal Sirius; handsome, and scowling in that dark, attractive way of his. He looked almost disappointed to see her.

“Expecting someone else?” Lily said, with a slight smirk.

“Has Izza written to you?” Sirius asked, ignoring her first question.

“No…” Lily frowned. “Has she written to any of you?”

Sirius shook his head. “We don’t know if she’s actually coming.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m worried about her.”

Before Lily could say anything else to that, James appeared at Sirius’ shoulder. He looked different in his casual muggle clothes; grey tracksuit pants and a plain black t-shirt, which made him look boyish and relaxed. “Lily!” he said, his face lighting up in a brilliant smile. “Come in.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said, brushing past Sirius. Lily tried to put that worried expression that was still on his face out of her mind. She forced herself to smile at James, then picked up her bag and followed him inside.

James insisted on taking her bag for her, then led her up a curved staircase. Lily trailed her fingers along the smooth, polished, gleaming wood of the banister, marvelling at the texture.

“Your house is amazing,” she said, to James’ back, as she ascended the stairs behind him.

“Thanks.”

They emerged onto a landing and Lily followed James down a long hallway, which led into a spacious, light-filled lounge room. She could see the whole back of the Potter’s property through the large picture windows, and the sun was setting. Three couches were arranged in a ‘U’ shape, and a magically enlarged mattress had been placed on the floor between the couches. Pillows and blankets had been piled onto the mattress.

“What’s all this?” Lily asked.

James grinned. “I thought we could all have an old fashioned sleep out tonight; you know, stay up all night talking and eat food that’s bad for us and be kids again, for a night.”

Peter, Marlene, Mary and Remus, who were all draped in various ways across the couches, jumped up when they realised Lily was there and came over to say hello and hug her. James quickly rounded off his tour, showing her the bathroom and the bedrooms. He showed her where to put her things, and then they went back downstairs, into the dining room.

Mr and Mrs Potter were seated at the dining room table. Mrs Potter had a coffee in her hand and was doing a crossword, her quill making gentle scratching sounds as she wrote; Mr Potter was reading the _Daily Prophet._ Despite the fact that they were just sitting, not talking, Lily got the most wonderful vibe of togetherness from them.

They looked up as James and Lily entered, smiles emerging on their faces.

“Lily,” Mrs Potter greeted cheerfully. “It’s good to see you again, dear. Merry Christmas.”

“You too, Mrs Potter,” Lily said.

She waved an airy hand. “Please, call me Euphemia.”

“Okay,” Lily said, nodding.

Mr Potter checked his watch. “It must be about time for dinner, eh?” he said, folding up his paper and standing. “James, why don’t you and Lily go get the others?”

James nodded and Lily followed him. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Mr Potter disappear into the kitchen. “Your dad cooks dinner?” she asked, smiling.

“They take it in turns,” James said, smiling in return. “It’s his turn tonight.”

“That’s really cute,” Lily said. She tried to imagine James being the kind of family man his father clearly was: funnily enough, she could kind of see it. He was like the mother hen of the Marauders - as much as it seemed like Remus was the responsible one, James was always fussing after the other three, making sure they ate enough breakfast and taking care of them when they were sick, and when Lily really thought about it, it was actually pretty funny that people categorised Potter as a ‘bad boy’ with Black, because he was genuinely just a mother goose.

Ten minutes later, the group assembled around the dinner table. Mr Potter had cooked roast pork and Lily’s mouth watered at the first cut. She piled her plate with golden potatoes, slices of meat and the fresh, crisp salad that Mrs Potter had made, and Mr Potter looked chuffed when he spotted the amount of food she was going to attempt to eat.

As they talked and ate, they caught up on the previous week of holidays, but all the while, Izza’s absence and the empty place setting left for her was impossible to ignore. Sirius kept looking at the vacant seat, then at the hallway, as if he expected her to appear. Eventually, Mrs Potter broached the subject.

“I thought you said Isidora was coming too?” she asked, addressing her son.

James shrugged. “Maybe she just got held up.” But the set of his jaw was worried; Lily recognised the look.

Lily looked at Sirius. He was sitting opposite her, but he had barely said anything all evening. Lily wanted to believe that Izza was just running late, but the look on Sirius’ face kept putting little seeds of doubt in her mind.

“She’s probably on her way right -” Remus broke off mid-sentence as the doorbell rang. Sirius sat up very straight; a split-second later, he was out of his seat, all but sprinting to the door. Lily looked at Mary and Marlene and, moments later, they followed him.

* * *

 

_The previous night:_

“Surprised?” Catrine, Izza’s mother, said, arching a brow.

There were no words. A thousand emotions were flooding through Izza, but suspicion and anger were fighting for dominance. Her mother was supposed to be long dead, yet here she was, standing in front of Izza as if the last ten years had been some kind of fucked up dream. She didn’t look sorry, she didn’t look like she’d missed her only daughter - she looked like she’d just nipped out for a cigarette and was saying ‘long time no see,’ as a bit of a joke.

“No hug for your mother?” Catrine asked. She seemed to be taking some kind of twisted pleasure in Izza and Vlad’s confusion. Her Romanian was a little hesitant, but she spoke it well nonetheless.

“Where have you been?” Izza demanded, finally unsticking her throat. “If you’re not dead, then where were you?”

“They never told you.” Catrine looked around; no one had seemed to have noticed the reappearance of a supposedly dead family member yet. “I thought they would take any opportunity they could to sully your memory of me, to destroy my character.” She laughed and Izza felt cold. What the hell was she on about? Surely no one knew about this, surely they wouldn’t have kept that from her...

Catrine smiled that dangerous smile again. “I’m disappointed in them.”

Vlad’s hand on Izza’s arm tightened slightly. She was glad he was there. Izza pressed her lips together and waited for Catrine to answer her question.

She stepped forward, reaching out and taking hold of Izza’s face, roughly moving it back and forth to get a good look at her. “You look so much like your father. Not a trace of me in you… The moment I met Nicolae, I knew he was perfect.”

Izza slapped Catrine’s hand away; her touch was not maternal and if it were possible, it only made Izza feel colder. “What do you mean?”

Catrine sighed. “You ask a _lot_ of questions, for a girl who so hates the invasion of her privacy…” Catrine allowed that to hang in the air for a moment, before continuing. “My blood is as pure as yours, my dear daughter, and my family is respected. My father, though, was foolish with money. When I met Nicolae, he couldn’t take his eyes off me and I knew - here was the man who would keep me in the lifestyle I was used to.”

Izza felt sick. Her father had _adored_ Catrine; aside from his children, she had been his whole world. What was Catrine trying to say - that it had always been about money for her? That she had never cared about her family, her kids? Her children who had mourned her ‘death,’ never quite filling the hole that her loss had created in their lives?

“But we hit a little snag.” The corner of Catrine’s mouth turned up slightly, as if she were telling a joke. “Your grandparents saw right through me. They forbade your father from marrying me, he disobeyed, et cetera et cetera,” Catrine said, waving an impatient hand. “They couldn’t bear to cut off their only son… their only heir. It was perfect. But your grandparents hate to lose, Isidora.”

Izza stayed very still as Catrine circled her once, like a predator circles prey.

“They wanted their son back, but they also wanted their grandchildren too. So we cut a little deal.”

“Merlin,” Izza heard Vlad murmur, his grip tightening on her arm.

Catrine’s smile widened. “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I was never cut out to be a mother, and they knew that; I got what I wanted, and they got what they wanted.”

Izza’s anger and betrayal boiled over. “And dad and Kes and I got nothing but the pain of thinking you were _dead._ ”

“Oh, they really kept you in the dark, didn’t they?” Catrine said, her voice soft and dangerous. “Your father knew the whole time. Your brother has known for months.”

Vlad’s hand tightened on her arm again, and for that, she was glad. She felt like she’d been stabbed in the chest - _Kes_ had kept this from her? That hurt more than Catrine’s abandonment. She and Kes had never had any secrets - that was what separated them from the rest of their family. She clenched her jaw. She was not going to cry, she wouldn’t give Catrine that satisfaction. 

“Wait - it was you who sent me those notes, you lured me out school.”

Catrine nodded. “Clever girl. I wanted to meet you face to face, but I wasn’t going to do it in front of your little entourage. After that, I decided there was a certain delightful something about crashing the fabulous Christmas party.”

Izza _knew_ someone had been watching her that night in the forest, and at the time, she could’ve sworn she saw a flash of yellow - Catrine’s blonde hair, of course. “What did you mean earlier, I am a Moldovan?” Izza asked.

Catrine’s pale blue eyes were cold, but that smirk was back. “I mean you are just like them, like your grandparents. You think you’re not, you think you’re _different_ but you are just like them.” Catrine came forward again and grabbed Izza’s hand, touching the Moldovan ring.

“Isidora!”

She looked up; Kes was there, his blue eyes - Catrine’s colour - flashing. Her heart clenched painfully. It had always been the two of them, but he had _lied_ to her, to her face. He must have known Catrine was looking for Izza in England, which had to have been why he unexpectedly popped up in Hogsmeade - to keep an eye on her, to make sure she didn’t stumble into the truth about their mother.

“Take your hands off her,” Kes snapped, pulling Catrine off Izza and putting himself between them.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” Izza said coldly, pushing him aside so she could meet Catrine’s eyes again. Kes’ face flashed with hurt, and Izza thought savagely that that was good - he would see how it felt. “What do you want? Why have you come back now, after ten years?” she asked, addressing her mother.

“You’re my daughter,” Catrine said, as sweetly as if their whole conversation thus far had not just happened. She came close to Izza, ignoring the way Vlad stiffened defensively. “We’re flesh and blood. You _are_ going to help me get what I want.”

Izza didn’t know what Catrine wanted and she didn’t particularly care. Catrine could go to hell, as far as Izza was concerned, and take all the Moldovans with her. “You are not my mother,” she said, in the iciest tone she could muster. “You’re just the bitch who broke my father’s heart and left me to the wolves.” She stared hard at Kes as she finished her last statement; he looked stricken.

The smirk disappeared from Catrine’s face; before Izza could realise what had happened, Catrine raised a hand and struck her, once across one side of her face, and then again across the other. Her cheeks stung and heat flooded to them.

Vlad made a furious move forward, but Izza flung out an arm to hold him back.

“I don’t care what your last name is,” Catrine snarled, the cool façade disappearing. “You are my daughter, and you will respect me the way I deserve, the way no Moldovan ever has.” Catrine’s sneer was cruel now; her beautiful face was hard. “And you _are_ a Moldovan, rotten through to the core. You are _just like them._ ”

“You are not welcome in my home.” The new voice was deep and angry. Izza turned; her grandparents had finally realised what was happening. Stere Diaconu was the one who had spoken, but Dorina and Vasile stood side by side, staring at Catrine as if she were a bit of dirt on their expensive boots. Vasile bristled with cold fury, but he opened an arm to Izza, who went to him.

Catrine’s disdainful smirk returned. “It was nice meeting you again, Isidora,” she said, and moments later, she melted into the crowd as if she’d never even been there, her scornful eyes never leaving the Moldovans.

“Isidora,” Kes began, but she cut him off, stepping out of her grandfather’s grip and looking at her brother with unveiled fury. Her mind was racing a million miles a minute.

Izza drew herself up, standing as straight as possible. “I’m sick of being the last to know,” she said, keeping her voice even; it was a quiet, dangerous tone. Vasile and Dorina exchanged looks. “I have always felt like a disappointment for having the gall to have my own personality,” Izza went on. “But it is you who has let me down, Kes.”

“You are no disappointment, Isidora,” Vasile said, his deep, thunderous voice about as affectionate as it ever got. He stepped forward and lifted his granddaughter’s chin slightly. “You shouldn’t ever feel like you have to temper your fire.” Vasile held Izza’s furious gaze steadily for a moment, then looked at Dorina. “Come, Dorina.”

Izza watched her grandparents and Stere go. She knew she should say something more to her brother, maybe let him explain, but she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him anymore. Her cheeks were blazing from the force of Catrine’s strikes; she’d have marks in the morning. 

“Isi-” Kes tried again, but she cut him off once more, with a raised hand.

“Do not even start with me, Kes. I need some time.”

Izza grabbed Vlad’s arm and dragged him away, leaving Kes in her wake. She led him through the crowd and in the closest door, which took them into a music room.

“Isidora, what -”

“Take me.”

Vlad almost choked on whatever he had been about to say. He took a step forward, his eyes searching hers. “Excuse me?”

Izza just tipped her head back slightly and parted her lips. She didn’t break the eye contact with him. Vlad licked his lips distractedly. ‘ _Come on,’_ she urged him mentally. She needed to feel something other than the horrible mash-up of anger and betrayal and pain that was burning beneath her ribs. He was the only person in this forsaken place who’d never let her down, and now she needed him to do this for her.

Vlad put a gentle hand on her neck and continued to search her gaze for any sign he should stop, all the way until their lips met in a kiss. Izza closed her eyes and tried to make her mind go blissfully blank as Vlad’s other hand pressed against the small of her back, holding her hips right against his. She wove her fingers through his soft, dark hair and began to walk backwards, searching for something to lean against. Eventually, she hit the piano. Vlad ran his hands down her bare back; she lifted her knee so he could lift her onto the piano. His pulse was racing in his neck - he wanted this, wanted her romantically in a way she couldn’t want him.

Izza tipped her head back, away from him, and Vlad kissed his way down her neck. The hand that was still under her knee ran up her leg, pushing her dress up. Izza pulled him closer, so she could wrap her legs around his hips.

“You,” Vlad said huskily, kissing along her collarbone, “have no idea how long… how much I want… you.” He punctuated that with brief, intense kisses. She didn’t say that she did know, that her knowing was the exact reason why he was as he was in that moment. He touched her face very gently, careful of the bruises that were quickly forming. She pulled her head away, the contact too intimate. That wasn’t what she was seeking from him.

Sirius’ beautiful face burst into her mind and she tried to shove away the feeling that it was him she wanted to see, not even to do this with, but to talk with him. He would know how to untangle the mess of her mind and make her feel better. She busied her hands, trying to banish Sirius’ image; it hurt to think of him.

“Too many clothes,” Izza muttered against Vlad’s lips, working to get rid of his jacket and waistcoat and shirt… she silently cursed dress codes. Finally, his chest was bare to her. Vlad was strong and lean; with his arms around her, she had a feeling of familiarity, of safeness. She kissed his neck, pausing at the spot under his jaw where his pulse throbbed.

Vlad’s hand was still resting on her thigh; as she unbuckled his belt with one hand (it was a talent) he curled his fingers around the waistband of her underwear, pulling them down her legs and out of the way. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers digging into his shoulder blade as he rolled his hips against hers.

“Ready?” he murmured, kissing her jaw, near her ear. He ran a hand through her hair, gripping it so he could guide her in for another searing kiss.

“Yes,” she nodded, lifting her hand to grasp his dark hair as he pushed forward.

For a moment, they were absolutely still. Vlad’s face was against her neck, his lips brushing the skin there as he breathed.

“Yes,” she repeated, tipping her head away from him as he started to move.

Vlad held her close, concentrating on her first, making sure she felt each fiery ripple of pleasure, every tingle, every touch. It was unselfish, and it was lovely, and he was so sweet, it killed her.

She tipped her head back, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

* * *

 

“Who did this to you?” Sirius’ voice was quiet and dangerous, and it shook with repressed anger.

Lily pushed past Remus and couldn’t suppress a gasp at the sight that greeted her. Izza stood on James’ doorstep, looking up at Sirius like he was precious and new and she was terrified of him. Two livid bruises marred her pretty face, flowering across her cheekbones. She looked exhausted, like she’d been travelling for days without proper rest or food.

“Izza, what happened?” Lily breathed.

Izza’s eyes flickered to Lily’s briefly, before she looked away again. “I’m fine. Are you going to let me in?” Her voice was dull; she looked down at her feet. Her bag stood beside her. The wind blew hard, tugging at Izza’s hair and snow began to flurry.

The group stood aside and Izza entered. They all stared at her in thunderstruck silence - what the hell had happened to her? She looked miserable, and since breaking eye contact with Sirius, hadn’t looked at any of them above their navels. James was the first to recover; he reached out to take Izza’s bags, but she flinched when his fingers brushed her hand. Lily watched James’ face work through a series of emotions; Izza didn’t notice because she was still staring at her feet.

“We were just having dinner,” James said, setting aside Izza’s bags and guiding her into the dining room. “Let’s get you something to eat.” James put his hands gently on Izza’s shoulders and steered her into the room.  

Mr and Mrs Potter stood, smiles melting away and shock written all over their faces when Izza entered, but James made a few frantic gestures behind her back, and they sat down with a bump. Lily recalled this was not the first time they’d had a bruised and broken looking teenager turn up on their doorstep; Lily’s eyes slid to Sirius, who was ghostly pale and looked like his mind was miles away.

“Isidora, welcome!” Mrs Potter said, forcing a smile. “Sit down darling, you must be hungry.” Euphemia stood, grabbing the plate that had been set out for Izza and reaching for food, piling her plate high.

“Thank you,” Izza murmured, sitting down. She kept her eyes cast downward, as if she were fascinated by the grain of the table.  

She didn’t say anything else throughout dinner unless she was asked a direct question, and even then, she answered with as few words as possible, eyes unfocused and downcast. Izza had always had a talent for looking directly at someone without actually meeting their eye, which she employed when it suited her, and she was using it now to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze.

As a result, dinner was a little tense. Everyone skirted around the issue, except for Sirius, who kept asking Izza pointed questions. To Lily’s disbelief, he actually looked surprised every time Izza answered him in the same snarky, monosyllabic way. She didn’t know what he expected - Izza was difficult to get information out of at the best of times, let alone when she had completely shut down like this.

“James,” Mr Potter said, after another such incident. “Could you go get the second tray of potatoes?”

James nodded, a look of relief crossing his face. He returned and set the tray in the centre of the table. He put a hand on Izza’s shoulder, and looked like he was about to ask if he could serve her anymore potatoes, but pulled it away immediately as though he’d been burned when she jumped and let her knife fall with a clatter.

“Damn!” Izza said, clutching her hand. When she flinched, her knife had slipped, leaving a deep cut between her thumb and index finger. As Lily watched, tears sprang to Izza’s eyes, which Lily would bet her life had nothing to do with the injury.

Izza stood and excused herself before disappearing into the kitchen. Lily half stood, but Sirius beat her to it.

“Sit down, Evans, I’ll go talk to her.”

Sirius opened the kitchen door slowly, not wanting to startle Izza again. She was slumped over the sink, running her hand under the tap water. He let the door swing shut so she would know he was there.

“Iz,” he began.

“Sirius, please,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

He went over to her and very slowly put his hands on her shoulders. She turned the tap off and, in one quick movement, turned into his arms and pressed her face against his chest. He held her tighter, burying his face into her hair and stroking the silky locks gently. He felt her shudder, and felt warmth through his shirt that suggested she might be crying. He squeezed her, letting her know via the pressure that he was there, and come hell or high water, he wasn’t letting go.

Sirius wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that, leaning against the sink whilst Izza cried out all the stuff she’d clearly been holding in. It hurt to see her in so much pain; every shake of her body was like a knife twisting in his gut. Izza just didn’t show emotion like this, not even around Evans, and Sirius wasn’t quite sure what to do. He was currently going with James’ method; hold them until the pain felt lessened. Sirius didn’t even attempt to broach the subject of what had happened to her; it was pretty clear that wouldn’t help at all. He just continued to stroke her soft hair gently, murmuring nonsense.

Eventually, Izza pulled away and wiped her face. Sirius couldn’t help but think that she still looked beautiful, even with a bruised face and red-rimmed eyes. His chest contracted, aching to see her so upset.

“Whatever it is, I’ll help you through it. Is that still bleeding?” he said. She nodded; he turned her palm over and pulled out his wand, muttering the charm that help the skin close over and knit back together. Then, he gently guided her hand back under the tap to clean the blood off.

“Thanks.” Sirius knew she wasn’t only thanking him for helping with her cut hand; he shook his head ever so slightly, and continued to wipe her palm, as if to say ‘don’t mention it.’

Once Izza’s hand was clean and dry, Sirius put his arm around her shoulder and they went back out into the dining room. Lily stood, her face pinched and concerned, and Sirius almost smiled at the look of utter relief on Evans’ face when Izza hugged her.

* * *

 

“We’re having a little sleep out,” James said to Izza, gesturing at the couches and the mattress on the floor in the upstairs living room. “So who wants to sleep where?” He set Izza’s bags down behind the couch and turned to look at his friends.

“I call one of the couches,” Lily said, running over and jumping on it. Remus and Marlene quickly followed suit. Everyone else sat down on the mattress, cuddling themselves into pillows and good-naturedly fighting for the lions’ share of the doona.

James disappeared downstairs briefly and returned with lots and lots of food that was indeed bad for them, as he had promised Lily earlier; Honeydukes chocolates of all descriptions, Chocolate Frogs, cauldron cakes, Bertie Botts beans and many, many more. Despite the dubious start to the evening, they were soon laughing and teasing each other like usual, catching up on what everyone had gotten up to during the holidays so far, and what they’d gotten for Christmas. Or it was close to usual, at least - Lily noted that each of Izza’s smiles looked a great deal forced - but at least she was making the effort to fake it for them, Lily thought sadly.    

Eventually, when they were all full of junk food, they began to drop off to sleep one by one; Peter first, snoring gently, then Mary not long after they’d all finished painting designs on Peter’s face with Marlene’s lipstick. Lily lay on her couch, snuggled under several warm, thick blankets, watching her friends. She was pretty sure that, despite their occasional disagreements, the girls and the Marauders were all proper friends, including her and James. The idea didn’t repulse her, or seem strange to her. It was actually a comforting thought.

Sirius sighed deeply in his sleep, rolling over and wrapping an arm around Izza, who was fast asleep on the mattress next to him, her eyes flickering madly under dusky eyelids.

Lily closed her eyes and, within moments, she too was sound asleep.

* * *

 

Sirius was woken by movement and a distressed noise; his eyes shot open and for a good minute he was completely disoriented, with no idea where he was. It slowly came back to him - he wasn’t at Grimmauld Place because he didn’t live there anymore, he was at the Potters’, on a mattress on the floor. Next to him, Izza was moving restlessly, and as he blinked and rubbed his eye, she let out a whimper. Whatever she was seeing in her dreams was clearly not pleasant.

“Izza,” he murmured, reaching out and wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Shhh,” he hummed, kissing the back of her neck.

“No, no,” she muttered, still dreaming.

“Shhh,” he repeated soothingly, his lips brushing the skin of her neck. He applied gentle pressure, hugging her and eventually she quieted down and Sirius let his eyes drift shut, still holding her close up against his chest.

He wondered, for the millionth time that night, what had happened to his Izza and who had hurt her and caused her these nightmares. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Sirius was getting angrier and angrier at whoever had dared lay a hand on his girl; he wanted to make them hurt the way Izza had earlier, when she’d been wracked with silent sobs of pain as she’d let Sirius hold her in the kitchen. As sleep reclaimed him, it didn’t even register to him how many times he’d thought of Izza as ‘his girl’ that night.

* * *

 

“I forgot to mention this earlier, but I was thinking about going in to Diagon Alley tomorrow,” Lily announced, the next morning at breakfast. She neglected to add that Justin Tait had written to her asking her to meet up with him. “Does anyone want to come with me?” she added.

There were a few shrugs, but everyone nodded in agreement.

“I need to go to the Apothecary, anyway,” James said, not looking up from his morning paper and coffee.

They spent the rest of Boxing Day lounging around upstairs, keeping warm in front of the fireplace. Lily and Remus were working on crossword in the _Daily Prophet_ , Izza was busy thrashing Sirius in a game of chess, and James and Marlene were reading books. Mary was painting her nails a violent shade of pink and Peter seemed to be napping on the couch.

There was something so cosy and comfortable about the scene that it made Lily smile to look upon her friends. It was almost like they were in their common room at Hogwarts, relaxing after a day of classes; it just felt so natural. Even Izza sounded a little bit more like herself, as she checkmated Sirius with a snide, “Better luck next time, Black.” She had seemed off all day though until that point; if someone spoke to her, she took a few seconds to react in any way, as if she were too caught up in her own head, millions of miles away from the Potters’ house.

“Listen to this,” James said suddenly, as if he’d just remembered; he marked the page in his book and tossed Sirius his newspaper from earlier. “‘ _Malfoy and Black to marry,’_ blah blah, ‘ _over one hundred guests are expected.’_ They’re calling it the wedding of the decade. I’m glad it’s you and not me, Padfoot.”

“It’s okay,” Izza said, her tone placatory as she repaired the chess pieces and reset the board. “We can take hip-flasks of Firewhiskey or something.”

Sirius looked relieved. “You’re still coming with me?”

Izza raised a brow at him, as if surprised he even had to ask. “Of course.”

James had set his book aside and was pointing his wand at the wireless, changing the stations. Lily laughed at him as the dulcet tones of Artemis Antonius’ Love Song Dedications for Amorous Witches and Wizards rose from the speakers.

“You’re so lazy,” she said, inflecting as much judgement as she could into her tone.

James grinned and was about to change the wireless from some oldies station that was playing the sort of music Dumbledore had used for pairs dancing at school, when Izza jumped to her feet and indicated to him to leave it.

“It’s a wedding waltz,” she explained, dragging Sirius to his feet and arranging them both into position. “We can practice.”

“Practice!” Sirius repeated derisively. “We don’t need to practice.”

They swept around the room as if they’d been born dancing around a ballroom. Mary and Marlene cheered and clapped as Sirius spun Izza into a deep dip, the crown of her head nearly brushing the floor.

“Of course,” Sirius said, pulling her upright and then grabbing the back of Izza’s leg and dragging her knee upwards, so that it was level with his hips. “We could always spice it up a bit. We wouldn’t want my parents thinking I actually am a good little pureblood boy.”

“No, we can’t have that,” Izza said, shimmying in a more salsa-like dance. She danced over to Remus, pulling him to his feet, and then making all the others join in one by one until all eight of them were dancing around the lounge with various levels of elegance, and gasping with laughter. Lily let herself be spun by Remus, thinking to herself that she hoped Izza’s good mood would last.

* * *

 

Sirius opened his eyes, blinking heavily in the darkness of his room. He could hear the sound of the door to the girl’s room closing, and then soft footsteps in the hallway. He considered getting up, but a moment later, the handle of his bedroom door began to turn. It opened a little, and Sirius propped himself up on his elbow, squinting in the gloom. He slipped his other hand under his pillow and curled his fingers around his wand.

He relaxed seconds later, releasing his wand when he realised it was just Izza. Her long hair was loose and tousled, and she was clad in a white silk nightgown. She looked a little thinner than usual, he thought briefly, as she tiptoed across to his bed through a strip of moonlight from the window.

“Did I wake you?” she whispered.

Sirius shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. “ _Muffliato_ ,” he murmured, just in case Peter, who was sleeping on a mattress on Sirius’ floor, woke up (which wasn’t likely - he slept like the dead). Then he pulled his covers back and Izza slipped in next to him, putting her cold feet between his warm ones and making him jump.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she muttered.

“Neither,” Sirius answered, rolling onto his back.

They lay together in silence for a time and Sirius stared at the roof. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Izza doing the same thing. Even in the darkness, he could make out the mottled bruises marring her pretty face. Izza had been even steelier since returning from Romania, even colder, if that was possible. It made Sirius wonder how deep the bruises went - he could see them, of course, right there on her face, but emotional bruises were different. He wondered how deep that pain lay; he’d caught a glimpse of it in the kitchen the other night, and it seemed like it might be worse even than the front Izza was putting on suggested.

“Stop looking at them,” Izza said, her tone hard.

Sirius looked back up at the roof. He hadn’t realised he’d been staring. “Do they hurt? Does it hurt you?”

Izza was silent for a while, before saying quietly, “That’s two different questions.” She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. Sirius sat up too and leant up against the headboard, looking at the ridge of her vertebrae until they disappeared beneath white silk.

“Talk to me,” Sirius said softly, touching her hair. “Let me have the pain for a while. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Izza looked over her shoulder at him, her expression disbelieving. “You want to feel how it feels?”

Sirius shook his head - he wasn’t trying to diminish or trivialise the way she felt. He was trying to tell her he’d been there - not long ago, he’d been the broken and bruised one, unable to sleep, begging James for something to put him out of his misery, even for just a couple of hours. “I want to take it all away for a while. You look like you haven’t slept in a week. Last night, you were really restless.”

Izza moved so suddenly that it caught Sirius by surprise; she threw a leg over his legs, so she was straddling him, then slid her hips forward until they were centimetres apart. “You want to know?”

Sirius nodded, a little stunned. “I want to understand. Tell me what happened.”

Izza ran her hands up Sirius’ arms, over his shoulders and into his hair. He felt her fingers curling until she was gripping his hair just tight enough to dance with the line between pleasure and pain. His eyes drifted closed, and he let his lips part slightly. Izza pulled his head back a little more, so their lips were nearly touching, and he pressed his hands against the small of her back, holding her closer, if that was possible.

“She hit me across the face, twice for good measure. To teach me a lesson. To teach me to respect her the way she _deserves_.” Izza kept murmuring strings of words, seemingly thinking aloud, and she wasn’t making much sense, at least not to Sirius.

“Who did?” he asked, confused.

The scenario, though, sounded familiar. Wasn’t that what his dad had said to him right before Sirius had left for good? Orion had smacked him so hard across the face that his ear had rung for days, and told him to have a little respect for his mother. Sirius felt the same anger he had when he had seen Izza on James’ doorstep, and the previous night when he held her through her nightmares. He hated whoever had laid a hand on Izza with a deep, burning passion.

“Stop thinking, Sirius.”

Sirius didn’t know who closed the gap, but the next thing he knew he was kissing Izza. He wasn’t sweet or gentle, because he knew she didn’t want gentle - not right now at least. She wanted raw and passionate and _real._ He could taste Firewhiskey on her tongue, but at that moment, he couldn’t quite remember why that was important. The hand that wasn’t in his hair ran down his chest and found the hem of his t-shirt, pushing it upwards. Izza’s fingers were cold, but Sirius felt his skin burning beneath her touch. He dragged a hand up her thigh until it brushed the silk of her nightgown. Could she feel what she did to him? He thought she probably could, considering the position she was in.

Izza broke away when a cough resounded through the room. They both looked over at Peter, but he simply rolled over without waking.

“Remind me to thank him in the morning,” Izza said, leaning forward so that her forehead was touching Sirius’.

“Why?”

“Because if he hadn’t just unintentionally interrupted, I probably would have let you have your wicked way with me right here in a room with one of your mates sleeping in the next bed.” Izza pressed her lips to Sirius’ one last lingering time.

“Then remind me to kill him,” Sirius joked, smiling crookedly.

Izza climbed off him and slid off the bed. She placed her hand softly on the doorknob, then looked over her shoulder at him and he waited for her signature sexy half-smile, but it never came.

“Night, Izza,” he said softly, huskily.

“Goodnight.”

Sirius slid down, so he was lying flat, smiling wryly. He just realised that he’d been cock-blocked by a mate who wasn’t even awake - and it had been Peter no less! Then his smile faded - he was worried about Izza; there was a darkness in her eyes that lingered even when she smiled, and she just didn’t seem like herself. He wanted to help her, to make her feel better, but he couldn’t while he still didn’t know the full story of what had happened to her. He wished she would let him in, behind her carefully constructed walls.

He still didn’t know where he stood with her, either - they were in the same uncertain place they’d been before Christmas. He could still taste Firewhiskey on his lips; he wondered vaguely when, between dancing to music on the wireless and going to bed, Izza had managed to sneak in a drink, and what exactly she was trying to medicate.


	14. Chapter 13: Fire and Rain

**_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN: FIRE AND RAIN _ **

“It’s going to rain,” Izza said, as they stepped onto the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. She blinked up at the sky, which, apart from a few white clouds, was quite clear. Her eyes, beneath the blue sky, appeared almost translucent, their colour vividly blue-violet.

“It is not,” Mary disagreed, tossing her head irritably. “Look at the sky. The sun is out!”

Izza shook her head. “It’s going to rain,” she repeated firmly.

“Come on,” James said, before Mary could retort again. He looked around the street – small clusters of people were hurrying along, not making eye contact with anyone. “We shouldn’t hang around.”

They set off in the direction of the Apothecary with the intention of restocking their potions kits. Lily felt somewhat unnerved by the way people were going from shop to shop, looking as if they couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Usually, Diagon Alley was full of people who would stop to have a chat to each other and catch up, but no more, it seemed. The mistrust, the fear, seemed to seep out of every stone, every building. The atmosphere was completely at odds with the beautiful, sunny winter day.

Lily checked her watch; it was eleven o’clock. She had told Justin she would meet him at eleven-thirty.

Their stop in the Apothecary was a short one. It smelt funny, like always, and they each grabbed the stuff they needed, paid the short-tempered man behind the counter, and emerged back onto the street. When Lily re-joined the group, they were watching some sort of commotion further down the road. A crowd had gathered; for a second, Lily felt a cold wave of dread, before she realised they seemed excited about something, not fearful. Her heart unclenched and her momentary surge of fear ebbed slowly.

“What do you reckon that is?” Marlene asked, pointing. 

Before anyone could reply, she got her answer; Stubby Boardman managed to extricate himself from the crowd. He was joined seconds later by Angus Savage, the Hobgoblins’ drummer; a big, burly Irishman with wild red hair and a magnificent red beard. As they watched, Savage said something to Boardman that made him nod, before bursting out in laughter.

“Brilliant,” Lily heard Sirius mutter, his tone distinctly unimpressed.

Izza looked away from the two musicians, letting her dark hair fall forward like a curtain. Lily realised a second later that she was hiding her face - or, more specifically, the bruises on her face.

It was too late, though; Boardman looked up at them, and recognition crossed his handsome face - unsurprisingly, of course; Izza was not easily forgotten, and she was distinctive, even in a crowd of people. He hit Savage on the arm, pointed, and then they started in the direction of the group.

“Izza, how are you?” Boardman asked with an easy, winning smile, when he and Savage reached them. He reached out to touch her shoulder and gain her attention. Mary and Marlene were exchanging looks of barely veiled delight.

Izza sighed and looked up at him, pushing her hair away from her face. Boardman’s expression faltered. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile in return.

To his credit, Boardman took Izza’s cue and pretended nothing was wrong. “Angus and I were just talking about going to get a coffee. Would you like to join us?”

Lily almost smiled. Boardman seemed like a nice enough person, but sometimes he spoke with the air of someone who had never been refused anything in his life. Lily doubted he had been; he was gorgeous, the lead singer of a popular band and from all the interviews Lily had read, was funny in a self-deprecating, dry kind of way.

Izza nodded, glancing briefly back at the group. “Sure. I’ll meet you guys at Gringotts in an hour or so,” she added, looking at Lily. Then, before anyone could say anything in return, she took the arm that Boardman offered her and walked off down the street with him and Savage.

“She’ll be right,” James said. Lily turned; he was speaking to Sirius. The latter’s jaw was clenched, his grey eyes on the corner around which Izza had disappeared. “You heard her; she said she’d only be an hour.”

“I’ve got to go too,” Lily said, checking her watch again. “I told Justin Tait I’d meet him for a little while.”

James frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Lily took a leaf out of Izza’s book and took off down the street before anything else could be said.

* * *

 

Lily paused at the door to the café where Justin had told her to meet him. She caught sight of herself in the reflection and quickly ran her hands over her hair, trying to smooth it. Then she laughed at herself - when had she ever been the type of girl to preen and care about whether she looked good or not? Still, she was relieved to see her hair still looked neat.

The first thing Lily noticed when she went into the warm cafe was the lack of people. There were a few tables that were full, but there were more that were empty, despite the inviting scent of baking goods and coffee, mixed with soft wizarding radio playing in the background.

Justin was sitting at a table by the window, and he waved her over.

“Hi,” she said, smiling as he leapt up to pull her chair out for her.

“Hi yourself,” Justin said, and his answering smile was brilliant.

Lily sat down and ordered a coffee from the plump, pretty waitress who looked very kindly, but who wore a pinched expression, as though she were under great strain. Lily supposed the staff of the Diagon Alley shops were all nervous - more and more shops were closing, their owners disappearing at random. She returned a few minutes later with Lily’s coffee; just after Lily set her cup down after the first sip, Justin reached across and put his hand over hers, quite casually, as if it were inevitable. 

“How was your Christmas?” he asked.

Lily shrugged. “Pretty good, I suppose. My sister and her husband were there.”

Justin smiled slightly. “I get the feeling you weren’t pleased about that?”

“My sister is fine; it’s her husband I don’t like. He’s intolerant and just all round impossible to deal with.” Lily felt her nose wrinkle automatically at the thought of Vernon Dursley.

“He sounds like a right treat.”

“Oh yeah,” Lily said, with a wry smile, “He’s absolutely delightful.”

“At least you managed to meet up with all your friends,” Justin pointed out.

“Oh yeah, we’re all staying at James Potter’s house for a couple of days, it’s been nice.”

Justin’s brows lifted. “Really? I didn’t think you and Potter got along very well.”

Lily shrugged again. “We’ve gotten better,” she said simply, not wanting to get into the complicated dynamics of her relationship with James Potter - especially not with Justin and particularly not when they were on a date.

The mention of James seemed to have killed the conversation; Justin stirred his coffee pensively with his free hand, and Lily looked out the window. She could see a small girl tugging urgently on her mothers’ sleeve and pointing at something… she frowned, and was about to point the girl out to Justin when, there was a deep, resounding _boom_ and the whole café rattled violently.

“What the hell was that?” Justin shouted over the noise, as they ducked for cover.

Their knees hit the floor painfully and Lily covered her head, her heart pounding fearfully, and, moments later, the glass of the windows blew in with another boom. She heard the tinkling of falling glass and felt the little shards hit her arms. She reached out blindly, her hand coming into contact with Justin’s arm and he grabbed at her, anchoring them both to the ground. 

The world was quiet for a brief, horrible second, before the screaming and shouting began.

“Come on,” Lily said, staggering to her feet and trying to pull Justin with her. “Come on!” Panic was setting in - she had to find the others: she had to find Izza and Marlene and Mary and the boys… something was seriously wrong; she could feel it in her bones. Screaming was echoing in her ears, right alongside the roaring of her own blood as her heart pounded, hundreds of beats faster than it should. 

They ran out of the café and, instead of hammering its way out of her chest, Lily felt her heart stop at the sight that greeted her.

Diagon Alley was burning.

Shop fronts had been blown completely away - many were on fire, spewing poisonous black smoke into the gathering thunder clouds, and the entire scene was chaos; terrified people were running in every direction, with ripped robes and bloody, ashen faces, shouting desperately for help or for friends or family who were missing. Lily searched the pandemonium desperately for her friends, for Izza, or James, or any of them. The need to see them safe and well was consuming everything else.

And then she saw them. Hooded, masked figures gliding through the debris, wands out, blasting things as they pleased. People fled before them, expressions of abject terror on their faces.

Justin tugged her hand desperately - he, too, had seen them. “Lily, we have to go, we have to hide!”

“No! I have to find my friends!”

Lily took off down the smoky street, fumbling for her wand and dodging huge chunks of falling debris with only one thought in her mind.

Find the others.

* * *

 

Izza watched Sean von Bertouch crumple in a flash of red light before a tall, masked figure in a black cloak. She heard a cry which might have come from her own throat, but then Stubby Boardman’s strong arms were around her, stopping her from running over there. She strained against him, but Stubby was strong and determined to keep her safe, even as she screamed and kicked out at him.

She had been walking along the street with Stubby and Angus when they had run into Sean, who was just coming out of Flourish and Blotts. Sean had just started telling them how he was shopping with his first year sister and his parents when a shop just down the road had exploded in a violent shower of glass and fire, the street had rocked and Diagon Alley had started falling to pieces, quite literally, all around them.

The first explosion had blasted Izza off her feet, and a body had fallen on top of her. She had panicked briefly, trying to push it away, but Stubby - it was only him, thank god, and he was alive - had held her down. “Keep your head down,” he whispered in her ear, covering her head with his arms. A blaze of pain lanced up her side, seemingly originating from her ribs, and Stubby held her gaze, his blue-grey eyes holding her gaze, as if he was trying to stop her from having to see the world burn around them.

Izza could feel debris falling on them and she could hear curses whizzing overhead, accompanied by lots and lots of shouting and screams. Each shriek sent chills down her spine, mingled with hot, stabbing pain from her side.

Moments later, there seemed to be a brief respite and the world fell eerily silent, except for the crackle of flames. Stubby dragged Izza to her knees, his faces pinched with worry as she clutched at her ribs, grimacing. A quick look to the right told her Angus was still there with them; he had his wand drawn, and a cut on his forehead was bleeding, but other than that, he looked okay.

“Sean!” she shouted, drawing her wand. A masked person was advancing on Sean, who was clutching his forehead and dazedly pulling himself to his feet. He hadn’t noticed the Death Eater. Izza screamed his name again.

She could only watch, helpless and horrified, as the hooded person raised their wand. She screamed his name once more, but he didn’t seem to hear her. He was turning, realising a tall, hooded figure was standing over him. Sean appeared to attempt to say something, holding his hands up in clear surrender, but there was a flash of green light; Sean went limp, falling at the feet of the Death Eater like a doll.

“We need to go,” she heard Stubby say, urgently. His arms were around her waist, dragging her to her feet, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from Sean’s body. He couldn’t be dead, surely. This had to be some sort of bad dream, some terrible nightmare made up by her overactive imagination in the aftermath of the horror of her trip home to Romania.

The Death Eater looked up, clearly catching sight of them and began to weave through the remains of buildings, lifting their wand.

“ _Stupefy!”_ Angus shouted over his shoulder. Stubby was still dragging Izza by the waist; she wasn’t looking, but she heard a crash and crossed her fingers, hoping that Angus’ spell had met its target.

Buildings were on fire and most of the front of Flourish and Blotts had been blasted away, Izza noticed, dazed, as Stubby literally lifted her off the ground by the waist, helping her over a large fallen column. Pain screamed up the side of her body, and she realised she had been wrong; this was no bad dream. This was hell on earth. 

The ground shook and another shop front exploded, just ahead of them. Izza blinked, lifting a hand to her forehead. There was blood there, but she couldn’t feel any pain; her blood was pounding too hard in her veins for any other sensation to be tangible. The street was filled with thick, dark smoke and the faint, eerie orange glow of flames. Izza could barely discern dark shapes running - it was virtually impossible to tell friend from foe.

A sudden thought occurred to Izza… Sean had said he was with his little sister, who was still in Flourish and Blotts - which was currently engulfed in flames.

Izza stopped dead in her tracks and extricated herself from Stubby’s grip, pushing her bloodied hair away from her face.

“Izza -”

“His sister is still in that building!” she shouted back at the boys, over the sound of explosions. “She’s only eleven! We can’t just leave her!”

“But that -”

“Go!” Izza told them, looking between the pair. “Get of here, I’ll be fine.”

Izza turned and ran in the direction of Flourish and Blotts, or what was left of it, before either Stubby or Angus could protest.

“Izza!” she heard Stubby shout again, and she glanced over her shoulder at him, not realising his shout was a warning. A second later, a spell collided with her, sending her sideways into what remained of a wall. Something cracked loudly, and blinding pain shot up her left arm, mingling with the pain from her ribs.

Clutching her forearm, she climbed to her feet. Sean’s sister, Laura, Izza thought her name was, was only eleven… she was probably terrified. Izza hadn’t been able to help Sean, so she owed it to him to help his sister. She blinked back the automatic tears of pain and pressed on. The only thought in her mind was that she had to save the little girl.

Mercifully, she made it into Flourish and Blotts without any other incident. It was filled with smoke, and the heat from the flames was intense, as was the throb of her arm, but she pushed through. Laura was just a child…

“Laura!” Izza shouted, squinting in the gloom. “Laura!”

She listened carefully - she could’ve sworn she heard a noise to her left, from the direction of the register. She picked her way through the debris and went around behind the counter. The horrible smell of burning books was making her light-headed, and the air felt devoid of oxygen.

Laura von Bertouch, luckily, was easily recognisable - she was a miniature of her brother; they had the same light hair, the same eyes. Laura’s pale face was streaked with dirt and soot and tears.

“It’s okay, I’m your brother’s friend,” Izza said, holding her good arm out to the girl. She could feel the heat intensifying - they had to get out of there before the whole place went up in flames. “We’ve got to go, now.”

Thankfully, Laura seemed to trust her. Izza pulled the girl against her, lifting her up and praising Merlin that she was a small eleven-year-old. Still, her broken ribs and her bad arm flared with white-hot, excruciating pain. Laura wrapped her arms tightly around Izza’s neck.

The problem was, holding onto Laura meant that Izza had no arms free to defend herself. Her left arm was useless, and her wand arm was holding Laura tightly. She tucked Laura’s face into her neck and ran, praying that no spells came their way.

Emerging onto the shattered street, she couldn’t see Stubby or Angus anywhere. She hoped they were okay and that they had gotten the hell out of Diagon Alley. More than that, she hoped Lily, Sirius, Marlene, Mary, James, Remus and Peter were all safe. She didn’t know what she’d do if any of them were hurt.

Another building exploded, and Laura started to cry.

* * *

 

“There’s Lily!” James voice was full of relief.

Sirius shot a quick stunning spell at the Death Eater who was advancing on them and wheeled around, looking in the direction that James was pointing. His breath was burning in his chest, though not nearly as painfully as the fear that something had happened to Izza.

Evans was running towards them, her deep red hair distinctive even in the smoky gloom. Justin Tait was on her heels and, aside from a few scrapes and cuts, they both looked unhurt.

“Evans!” Sirius shouted. He went to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Where is Izza?”

Lily’s face was dirt-streaked, but the skin underneath that was pale and she shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know,” she said, her jewel-green eyes filling with tears. “We looked for her, but we couldn’t… I couldn’t find her.”

James reached them at that point, and to Sirius’ surprise, Lily turned to James and threw her arms around him, burying her face in her chest. James just looked at her, stunned, and she pulled away a minute later, looking from Sirius to James. Her hand curled in James’ shirt.

“Where are the others? Marlene and Mary and -”

“Remus and Peter took them and got out,” James said. “They didn’t want to leave, but -”

“But James went Head Boy on them and ordered them to go,” Sirius finished for him, his gaze roving the street. “Prongs, we have to find Izza. We have to get off this street, we’re sitting ducks.” Panic was bubbling in Sirius’ chest - Izza was in Diagon Alley somewhere, alone. What if something had happened to her? What if she was trapped in one of the many burning buildings, or what if - Sirius shook his head and pushed his dark hair from his eyes. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He just had to find her.

Drops of moisture had begun to fall; Sirius couldn’t help a brief, wry smile. Izza had been right about the rain.

“Justin, go, Apparate home,” Lily was saying insistently, when Sirius refocused. He looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but seemed to spy the look in Lily’s eyes and nodded.

“Take care of her,” Justin said to James, before turning on the spot and disappearing with a crack.

James didn’t appear to have heard Tait. He was peering into the gloom, ignoring Lily’s insistent hand on his shirt. “Sirius, look!” James said suddenly.

Sirius looked, following James’ pointed finger - someone was emerging from the thick smoke. They were oddly shaped, and Sirius held his wand ready. He’d do whatever it took to defend his friends.

“Sirius? Merlin, please tell me that’s you!” The voice coming from the person was beautifully familiar to Sirius.

It was Izza.

He didn’t even think, he just ran to her. She was holding onto a little girl with her right arm; her left was cocked awkwardly. Her face was a mask of pain, the arm holding the girl was trembling uncontrollably. Behind him, Sirius heard Lily’s shriek at the sight of Izza. He prised the girl off Izza - not an easy feat - and set her down on the ground. She grabbed Izza’s leg the moment Sirius let her go and clung to it for dear life.

“Are you okay?” Sirius asked, putting his hands on her bloody, sooty face and looking at her with concern as Izza clutched her left forearm and winced.

“I think my collarbone is broken.”

Sirius brushed her filthy hair away from her face, loosening small bits of rubble from the strands. She was covered in dirt and blood and ash, but she was beautifully alive, and that was such a relief.

“Laura!” shrieked a desperate voice. A man and a woman were running towards them. Sirius dropped his hand from Izza’s face, but linked his fingers with the fingers of Izza’s good hand. He had to keep her close, he wasn't letting her out of his sight again.

“Mum!” Laura answered, lifting her tear-streaked face away from Izza’s leg.

“Oh, thank god!” Mrs von Bertouch cried, pulling Laura into a desperate hug.

“I got her out of Flourish and Blotts,” Izza explained to Mr von Bertouch. “I’m a friend of Sean’s, from school.”

“Where is Sean?” he asked desperately, grabbing Izza’s injured arm in his panic.

Sirius looked at Izza; despite her grimace of pain, she was very still and she held Mr von Bertouch’s gaze steadily. “There was nothing I could do,” she said quietly. Sirius squeezed her hand gently.

Mr von Bertouch’s cry of agony was not something Sirius would ever forget.

* * *

 

The waiting room in Emergency at St Mungo’s was almost as chaotic as Diagon Alley had been. It was full of the injured, bloodied and bruised, waiting for the moment when the Healers, who were running frantically all over the place, might spare them a minute. Then there were the family members who had fronted up at the hospital in the desperate hope that their missing loved ones were there. That was the worst; every time Sirius caught sight of the pinched, worried faces, he felt physically ill.

Actually, no, Sirius thought, wincing as a moan of pain forced its way through Izza’s clenched teeth. Healer Vincent was positioning her arm so the collar bone would be properly aligned when he fixed it. She was in pain, and he couldn’t stand hearing her in pain - it physically hurt him, like a stab in the gut.

Izza’s good hand was squeezing Sirius’ hand so tight he thought the bones might crack. “Easy there, love,” he murmured.

He could see Lily being cleaned up by a trainee Healer and he knew James was around somewhere, though he couldn’t see him at that time. Izza’s ribs still had to be fixed, but she was not critically injured and wouldn’t be admitted - she’d be Healed right there and then sent on her way.

Sirius wondered how bad it would be tomorrow. How many deaths would the _Prophet’s_ headline record? Or, even worse, would the media go the other way and try to cover up the worst of what had happened? It seemed the paper and the Ministry and the Wizengamot were increasingly afraid of being transparent - the truth had fallen away in favour of self-preservation.

“Sirius, sweetheart, thank Merlin!”

Sirius blinked as someone came out of nowhere to throw his or her arms around him. He realised a moment later that it was Euphemia Potter. 

“I’m okay, Me-me,” Sirius said hoarsely, looking up into the anxious face of his surrogate mother. She wiped the pad of her thumb over his cheekbone, as if to convince herself.

Izza’s grip suddenly increased tenfold (when had she gotten so freaking strong?). Sirius winced and looked at her; she was deathly pale, but the Healer had his wand out and was muttering quickly, so Sirius knew the worst was over.

Noticing the look on Euphemia’s face, Sirius said, “Broken collarbone. Four cracked ribs.” He held up the hand that Izza was holding onto, showing her his abused fingers. “Permanent hand damage.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” Izza said, her breathing quick and shallow.

“All done,” Healer Vincent said tiredly, standing up straight. “Avoid straining that arm for a couple of days and definitely no heavy lifting with those ribs, but really, you’re nearly as good as new.” His eyes were already searching out his next patient. Sirius felt sorry for him; he looked overwhelmed, like all the Healers did. The three general medical wards at St Mungo’s were full to bursting, and there were outliers scattered through all the other floors, wherever an empty bed could be found.

Izza straightened out her arm.

“All good?” Sirius asked, gently loosening her grip on his hand. She nodded and made to let go of his hand completely, but he caught it and weaved their fingers together. Izza looked down at their hands, then up at him, her brow lifting questioningly. He wanted to tell her that there was no way he was letting her go, that he had to feel the pulse in her palm to remind him that she was alive, and though he’d nearly lost her, she was right here and safe within his grasp.

Euphemia was looking around the room and, moments later, her gaze locked on something over by the reception desk; her son, his messy hair stained grey with building dust. “There’s James. You two stay right here,” she ordered, before going to James.

“Did it really happen?” Izza asked, leaning her head against Sirius’ shoulder. She was exhausted, that was obvious, but she also seemed to still be in a state of shock, like none of the days’ events had sunk in yet. Sirius recognised the blank, dead-eyed stare that meant Izza was retreating inside herself, processing and throwing up walls.

“Yeah, it did,” Sirius said quietly, watching Euphemia grab James in a crushing hug.

Izza brushed her hair from her face. “Sean?”

“Yes.”

Izza didn’t cry, but over the years, Sirius had come to learn that that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t hurting. Maybe she hadn’t liked the Ravenclaw all that much, but she was human underneath all her layers of protective mechanisms, and she had known that the there was a real person under Sean’s inability to stop running his mouth. “I need a shower,” she muttered.

“Me too. We could shower together and save water.” He nudged her gently with his shoulder, wanting to see her smile, even if it was only for a minute. It seemed important that he make her smile.

She did; it flickered to the corner of her lips. “You’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s going to be bad tomorrow, isn’t it?” Her smile faded as she looked around the waiting room.

“I think so,” Sirius said. He let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “But I’ve got you, Iz.”


	15. Chapter 14: Aftermath

**_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN: AFTERMATH _ **

Lily woke the next morning with a pounding headache, and a feeling that she couldn’t shake. She wasn’t sure how to describe it - it was like fear, but it left a metallic taste in the back of her throat, like blood. It was heavy and it pressed down on her chest, so that each breath felt like a labour. It was something dark and left her inexplicably close to tears, because it was such a confusing feeling. She had no name to put to it, no way to class it and file it away, where it couldn’t affect her anymore.

Lily threw back the blankets and fumbled in her bag for a jumper. She could still taste the ash and fire of a burning Diagon Alley in her throat, and felt an urgent need to be around her friends. They never failed to remind her that she was alive and that some things were still right and good in the world.

They were all in the lounge room, and Lily nearly laughed at the massive sense of relief that washed over her at the sight of them. They all looked so normal that, for a second, Lily could almost pretend nothing was wrong. James was sprawled out on the floor, reading the newspaper. Izza and Sirius were sitting side by side on the couch. They were both clutching cups of coffee - black and scalding hot, the only way both took it - and had their feet up on the coffee table. Sirius’ right hand was resting on Izza’s left thigh and, in that moment, Lily craved that familiarity, that person in her life that she was absolutely comfortable with.

Remus and Marlene were sharing a plate of toast, and Mary and Peter were both lounging on the floor. No one was speaking, but the whole scene was so comfortable that it didn’t even matter. 

Lily noticed a _Daily Prophet_ lying on the coffee table. She flipped it over and regretted it immediately when she caught sight of the headline.

_DIAGON ALLEY ATTACKED, ELEVEN DEAD._

Even worse than the words, there were photographs of the dead plastered across the front page - they smiled toothy smiles and waved energetically. How was it possible that all those people could just be gone, could just cease to exist? Lily’s eyes fell on Sean von Bertouch’s picture. He was smiling just as widely as the others were and Lily found she couldn’t look away. His death was senseless - he was only eighteen, for Merlin’s sake.

Lily threw the paper back down on the table, face down, the way she had found it. She caught Izza’s eye and the other girl nodded slightly, as if to say ‘yeah, same.’

Lily sat down next to Remus and gratefully accepted the piece of toast that he handed her. She looked at James, who turned the page of his paper, before glancing up at her.

“It’s pretty bad,” he said, as though he had read her mind.

“I believe you. I don’t want to read it.”

* * *

 

Lily’s blood was pulsing in her veins, and she was pretty sure that it was the vodka’s fault. Or maybe it had been the tequila. She wondered exactly how Izza had managed to convince the group to go to the pub in town, but she supposed Izza had always been very good at getting what she wanted. And what Izza liked best was to drink until her blood sung with courage and all the darkness of the world no longer could touch her. That, and she loved to corrupt her friends. 

But of course, part of _all_ of them just wanted to distract themselves from what was happening in the wizarding world.

The group was seated around a table in a booth. They had already gone through several rounds of drinks, and were playing ‘I Never,’ which Peter had introduced the purebloods to. Of course, the game got funnier and funnier the drunker they got - and more truthful. 

“Whose turn is it?” Izza asked, returning from the bar with a tray full of tequila shots. They were all in Muggle clothes of course, and Izza had shrugged out of her leather jacket, leaving her in a tight black bandeau with thin straps and high-waisted jeans. Lily was well and truly distracted by her best friend’s cleavage as she leaned over the tables, passing out shots. 

“Lily’s, I believe,” Peter said, helping Izza hand out the shots. “Go, Evans.”

Lily considered for a moment. Her brain was working a little slower than usual, thanks to all the alcohol. “I’ve never… been overseas.”

The group groaned. “Lily, that is so boring,” Marlene said. Remus let his forehead smack against the table top exasperatedly.

“Yeah,” Mary agreed. “Give us something more interesting, something that forces everyone to tell their secrets! Otherwise there’s no point in playing!”

Lily thought hard. “Okay, okay, I’ve got one,” she said, grinning. “I never had a sexual fantasy about anyone at this table.” The boys gave her approving looks.

Everyone drank, except for her and she stared at them all in shock.

Marlene grinned. “As if you haven’t, Lils. Go on, everyone spill.” Marlene waved her hand around, as if corralling them all. “Then Lily won’t be embarrassed to admit it. Izza?”

Izza raised a brow and smiled ever so slightly, putting her elbows on the table. Lily snuck a glance at Sirius, who’s gaze was transfixed on Izza’s chest. “Oh, mine’s a good one. It’s just human nature, Lily, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

That was easy for her to say; Lily was pretty sure she knew who Izza’s fantasy would be about. Plus, Izza had never been embarrassed about anything in her life, let alone been shy about her sexuality. Lily scrutinised her friends; she could all but pick who everyone’s would be.

Izza’s wicked smile widened and she surveyed the group with smoky bedroom eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask me who it was with?”

The others all looked at her, confused. They had clearly assumed the same thing as Lily - the only Marauder that it was even remotely likely that Izza would feel some attraction toward would be Sirius; she thought of James like a brother, she had called Remus ‘Dad’ more times than anyone could count, and she could often be heard calling Pete as though he was her over-eager puppy.

“Who?” James asked, his expression suggesting he thought he might regret asking the question.  

Izza smirked. “Remus,” she said, casual as anything, tipping her head back and exposing her long neck as she downed her shot.

Remus seemed to choke a little and James let out a long whistle. Lily glanced briefly at Sirius - he was staring at Izza, mouth open and gaping.

“It was, uh, just after I got that letter and, you know, swore in the middle of the common room. I was hiding out in an empty classroom and you bunch of total cowards sent Remus down to talk to me, remember?” Izza arched a dark brow, the corner of her lip curling in a smirk.

The girls were dumbstruck. James was the first to recover. “Holy Merlin!” he said, looking at Remus. “We sent you to talk to her, not - what _did_ you do?”

Sirius looked like he would dearly love to know the answer to that question. Lily couldn’t help a smile; Sirius’ fist was clenched so hard that his knuckles stood out, bright white under his skin. Remus was blushing and opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t seem to get any words out. He looked helplessly at Izza, who simply looked very pleased with herself and left him to flounder.

“We only talked, for God’s sake,” Remus managed to choke out, his skin turning an interesting shade of strawberries and cream.

Izza was nodding. “Yeah, but that night, I had this _wild_ dream.” She winked at Remus. “Lovely Lupin came bursting through the door, which he slammed shut and locked. Then he said ‘Get on the desk. I know how to make you feel better.’ It was hot - he was all demanding and...” Izza finished with several words in Romanian that none of them understood, her wicked smirk still firmly in place.

Remus swallowed. “Well, Iz, if you ever care to act that one out, I’m happy to oblige,” he said cheekily. Clearly, he hadn’t seen the look on Sirius’ face, Lily thought, or his grip on his scotch glass, as though he wished it was Moony’s throat beneath his fingers.

“I’d love to, Remus. Now? In the alley behind the bar?” She leaned over the table and stroked a finger teasingly along Remus’ hand.

Lily decided that she needed to be the one to put an end to this, or poor Sirius would have an aneurysm - a muscle in Black’s jaw was flickering in a menacing way. “Okay, I get the picture, Iz. A very _vivid_ picture that I won’t be able to erase… I’m going to lose sleep tonight.”

“Ask and you shall receive the truth,” Izza said, with an elegant shrug.

“Whose turn is it?” Sirius asked abruptly, setting his glass down heavily and clearly hoping for a change of subject.

James grinned, eyeing his best friend affectionately. “Maybe we’ve had enough of this game,” he suggested.

Izza glanced at her watch, then poked Sirius in the ribs to make him stand up. “Come, _morocănos_ , come get some drinks with me.” She gestured at everyone’s empty glasses.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius asked, frowning as she dragged him to the bar.

“Grumpy,” she said affectionately, touching his chin.

He slid onto a barstool, and shot Izza a petulant look. “Am not.”

She gave him a look that said ‘oh, really?’ Izza leaned over the bar and whispered something in the ear of the bartender. Sirius watched the lean muscles of her back move beneath her skin, then his gaze slid lower, to the curve of her backside. He couldn’t stay mad at her, he thought with an internal sigh. The bartender was nodding and winked at Izza, before filling two shot glasses with a pale gold liquid. He put a slice of lemon on top of each glass and a salt shaker in front of Izza.

She was watching the clock. “It’s officially tomorrow. Another day.”

Sirius looked up at the clock. “So it is,” he said. “What’s this?” he gestured at the shot glasses.

“Here,” Izza said, a hint of a smile on her lips. She grabbed his hand and, before he could realise what had happened, she raised it to her mouth and kissed it, swirling her tongue lightly across the (surprisingly sensitive) skin there. She pulled back moments later and grabbed the salt shaker. She poured some salt onto the place she had just kissed, then held out the lemon wedge. “Go,” she said, smirking, “Salt, Tequila, lemon.”

He did as he was told, the skin on his hand tingling all the while. He watched Izza go through the same motion, chinking her shot glass against his when she was done.

“To another day of being alive,” she said.

“Do I get a reward kiss, for this ‘being alive’ business?” Sirius asked, giving Izza his best smile.

Izza raised a brow at him. “Now what kiss would that be?”

“My kiss from the prettiest girl I know."

Izza pretended to look around curiously. “And who would that be?”

Sirius reached out and grasped the waistband of Izza’s jeans, gently pulling her toward him. “You are the prettiest girl I know.”

Izza smiled. “Yes, I’m aware of that. Why would I kiss you though?”

He waited, but she merely lifted a brow in an expression that suggested the next move was entirely Sirius’. Her violet-blue eyes looked strangely, entrancingly pale in the dim, glowing pub light. She took his breath away, each and every time he looked at her.

“You look like your father, when you hold your head like that,” Sirius said, reaching up and putting a hand on her cheek. He let his fingers run over the curve of her cheek and into the soft hair behind her ear.

“What do you mean?”

He smiled. “That picture of him that you take with you everywhere. His expression in it is identical to yours right now.”

Izza’s brows pulled together, but she didn’t shy away from his touch. “You know about that?”

Sirius nodded. “You hold yourself just like him. Proud. Like a wolf. Like an...angel.”

Izza’s mouth quirked slightly and she looked away from him, at the bar. “You’re drunk, my friend.”

“Maybe a little,” Sirius said, smiling crookedly and lowering his hand to her arm. He felt it important that she really _hear_ what he was trying to say. “But it’s only making me more honest. Making me say the things I don’t normally have the guts to admit to you. Because you give me that look - that one you’re giving me right now - with those damn eyes, and it makes me chicken out.”

She looked up at him again, those bewitching blue eyes intent upon his own. “Apparently it also makes you wax poetic.” 

Sirius lifted both his hands to her face and drew her in for a long kiss, no longer caring if she was giving him that terrifying look. He felt her laughing and she murmured against his mouth, “I tend to have that affect on boys.”

* * *

 

Lily watched Sirius Black kiss her best friend. She couldn’t quite remember at that point why it was at all monumental (she blamed the vodka. Or was that the tequila?), and looked to Remus, who was seated next to her. Perhaps he would know. Or was that insensitive? Lily didn’t know if she was allowed to talk about Sirius and Izza to Remus. She didn’t know any of the rules any more; she was hanging out with Potter, Black was kissing her best friend, and everything was topsy-turvy.

“What?” Remus asked, noticing her looking at him.

“Does that bother you?” she asked, jerking her head in Sirius and Izza’s direction.

“No,” Remus said, a little too firmly to be entirely convincing. “Why should it?”

“Because you want her.”

Remus stared at Lily. Alcohol made her very, very blunt. “I don’t think this is the time to be talking about that, Lily,” he said gently.

“Well, why not? I think you should go over there and tell Sirius that you’re uncomfortable.”

“Lily, stop it.” Remus smiled wryly. “You’re being silly.” He looked over at Sirius and Izza. They were no longer kissing; Izza appeared to be charming two free drinks out of the bartender.

Lily grinned at Remus in a way that made him nervous. “What?” he demanded. “What are you planning?” He glanced around, looking for James and Peter or Marlene and Mary, in case he had to attempt to restrain Lily, but they were over at the other end of the pub, playing two-on-two pool.

“Don’t worry, Remus,” Lily said, downing the rest of her drink and standing up.

He wasn’t reassured. He called her name, but she sauntered over to Sirius and Izza, ignoring him completely.

Izza noticed her first and smiled. “Hey,” she said. “What have you done to Moony? He looks ticked off.” Izza gestured over Lily’s shoulder at Remus, who was making his way towards them.

“Lily,” he said warningly, reaching them and putting a hand on her shoulder. “I swear to Merlin, if you -”

“Remus is feeling a little _jealous_ ,” she said the last word in a whisper and shrugged away from Remus, putting an arm around Izza’s shoulder.

Izza’s smile faltered and she looked from Sirius to Remus, in confusion. Remus shook his head in disappointment and looked away. Sirius’ jaw tightened.

“Really?” he said, looking up at Remus. “We’re going to do this now? Are you scared - is that why you sent her?” he jerked a contemptuous head in Lily’s direction.

Lily was drunk enough that she seemed oblivious to the damage she had just done, with one little sentence. Remus looked pleadingly at Sirius, like he was asking him to believe he had no part in this.

“Someone needs to tell me what is going on,” Izza said. Her super-calm, completely even voice was a lot scarier than her shouting, in Sirius’ opinion.

“How do you know?” Remus asked Sirius, frowning.

“I guessed.”

Izza’s frown had deepened. “Tell me what the hell is -”

“Remus _likes_ you,” Lily stage whispered, in a singsong voice, tightening her arm around Izza’s shoulders.

There was a delicate, fragile pause at that point. Izza stared up at Remus, who refused to meet her eye. This was the last thing she wanted dropped on her - after what had happened back home, then the events in Diagon Alley, she really didn’t think she could deal with much more on her mind. What she had said earlier - the way she had joked about having a fantasy that involved Remus - she felt mortified. He had seemed embarrassed, and now she knew why. She would never want to hurt him, or make him uncomfortable. She stood up, running her hands through her hair.

“Izza -” Sirius began, moving to catch her arm.

She shrugged him off. “I just… I just need some air. I’ll just be out the front for a minute.” Izza ignored his protests and headed straight for the door of the pub. She emerged out onto the street, which seemed relatively quiet - only one man lent against the wall near the door, happily smoking a cigarette.

The Muggle noticed her looking and dug around in his pocket, drawing out a carton and offering her a smoke. “You want one? You look like you could do with it.”

Izza took it from him and gratefully accepted his lighter. “Thanks.” She hung the stick between her lips and flicked the wheel of the lighter until it sparked. 

The man stubbed his butt out and opened the pub door, pausing briefly to catch the lighter that Izza tossed back to him. “Enjoy,” he said, disappearing back inside.

She took a long drag. She didn’t smoke often, but times like this - when focusing on the cigarette made it impossible to think too much on all that was in her head - made it very enjoyable. What the hell was she supposed to do? She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise Sirius and Remus’ friendship, or her own friendship with either boy, for that matter. When had things gotten so screwed up?

The night air was very cold. Izza huddled in her leather jacket and flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette. Despite the frigid air, she wasn’t looking forward to going back inside. She didn’t feel at all capable of dealing with such a level of emotional overload.

Izza tossed her spent smoke to the ground and stood on it to put it out. She was just bending down to pick it up, so she could put it in the bin, when she heard a strange, grating sound, like someone knocking over a metal rubbish bin. She straightened up and listened for a moment. There was an alley down the side of the bar - there would be bins down there, and that was where the noise had seemed to come from. Izza moved slowly towards the opening between the pub and the next building, holding her hair back from her face as she poked her head around the corner.

“Hello?” she hedged, her eyes scanning the alley. A bin had definitely been knocked over, but no one was there, as far as Izza could tell. It had probably just been a fox.

But then again, Izza felt cold, like someone was watching her… the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Izza turned, just as someone grabbed her arms.

She screamed.

* * *

 

“What was that?” James asked, standing up straight and cocking his head, listening. He lowered his pool cue and looked around at Peter, Marlene and Mary. Everyone else had heard it too - a bloodcurdling, spine-chilling scream that had come from somewhere outside the pub.

Over by the bar, Sirius stood up, his eyes wide. “Izza’s outside,” was all he said, before sprinting for the door.

Lily’s heart stuttered, and seemed to stop for a second, before she was on her feet and following Sirius out the pub door. Her head was spinning (she couldn’t remember ever drinking so much in her life), but she managed to keep up. Remus was right behind her; he caught her arm to stop her tripping over her own feet.

Sirius stopped on the footpath in front of the pub. He couldn’t see Izza, or anyone else for that matter.

“Izza!” he called.

Sirius could hear some scuffling from the laneway next to the pub. As he rounded the corner, he saw a dark shape disappearing down the other end of the alley. Izza was on her knees, one hand pressed to her temple, her eyes closed. She let out a moan of pain as he got down on his knees next to her.

“Iz, what happened, love? Are you all right?”

Izza’s hand shook as she pulled it away from her temple; there was blood on her fingers. She moaned again and pressed her hand back to her head, her brows pulling together in pain.

“Bastard… hit me,” she muttered.

“Who?” Sirius demanded, looking up briefly. The dark shape had gone. He looked over his shoulder; the whole group was hovering behind him, various expressions of worry and fear on their faces.

“I… don’t… know,” she ground out. Her eyes were still tightly shut. “If I move much, I’m going to be sick.”

They waited, and, after a while, Izza straightened up and managed to get to her feet without incident. She brushed off an attempt by Sirius to put an arm around her and looked around at her gathered friends. Her eyes were still somewhat glassy, as if she was having trouble properly focusing on anyone.

“What happened?” James asked. He was the only one who had thought to draw his wand; he lowered it now that it seemed there was no threat.

“I don’t know, really,” Izza said, her hand drifting back to her forehead. Sirius bet her head was pounding. “It happened too quickly.” She frowned, like she was trying hard to remember something. “I think… maybe he had the wrong person.”

James and Sirius exchanged a glance.

“What makes you say that?” Marlene asked.

Izza shrugged briefly. “He only hit me to stop me from shouting. It just didn’t seem like it was me he was waiting for.”

“Who was he looking for then?” Mary asked. The question was innocent enough, but they all looked at each other uneasily.

“Was he a muggle?” Remus queried.

Izza started to shake her head, but stopped almost immediately - clearly the action hurt. “No, he was wearing robes, and a cloak.”

No one said as much, but they were all thinking the same thing. Would this - this fear and uncertainty, this constant looking over their shoulders - ever end?

* * *

 

Remus traced the constellations he knew with his eyes, and listened to the faint hoot of an unseen owl, concealed within the trees that surrounded James’ property. He was sprawled out in a chair on the deck upstairs, his head tipped back as he looked at the sky. He was relishing the quiet, the solitude and relishing being away from those uncertain looks Sirius kept giving him. 

He hadn’t wanted anyone to know about his silly crush on Izza for that exact reason - he had wanted to avoid the tension and the awkwardness that inevitably arose. Bloody Lily - Remus loved the girl, yes, but he resolved there and then to never let her near tequila again.

Remus wasn’t sure what to do about Izza though, and a small knot of anxiety twisted in his gut every time he thought about it. He didn’t want to get in between Izza and Sirius, and he was sure he’d get over her with a little time, but now that everything was out in the open, it just made things more awkward than they needed to be. He didn’t know how to talk to her about it either; as it had been since Christmas, Izza face was closed and impenetrable every time he looked at her.

It was good to be alone, he mused, to be able to think. Sirius and Izza had gone to bed - they had to get up in a few short hours for Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black’s wedding. Peter and Mary had gone to bed too, and the last Remus had seen of them, James and Lily had been downstairs, fixing up a late-night snack.

The sound of the door sliding open made him jump, and he sat up a little straighter as Marlene dropped into the chair next to him.

“Hey,” she said, the corners of her lips curling in a faint smile.

“Hi,” he sighed.

“So, I may have overhead something interesting in the pub tonight,” Marlene said, looking at him dead on. She always had been direct like that - Remus liked that about her.

“What’s that?”

“Something about you liking Iz…”

Remus sighed once more. Was the whole world to know? “Yeah, what of it?” he snapped, a little more harshly than he intended.

Marlene just looked at him for a while, with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. Eventually, she said, “If you need to talk about anything at all, I’m here.”

“I’m fine, really,” he said, his tone much gentler. It wasn’t Marlene’s fault things were so screwed up. “I don’t intend to do anything. They’re both my friends, and there’s no way I’m doing anything to screw that friendship up.”

They were silent again for a long time, both contemplating the sky, until Marlene said, “Remus? You know when we were in Diagon Alley?”

“Mmm?” he murmured. He was briefly surprised that she was bringing it up - the group seemed to have come to a silent consensus that they weren’t going to discuss that day’s events.

“I wanted to say thank you. I know you wanted to stay with James and Sirius, but I appreciate you going with us, to keep us safe. Mary and I had to leave Lily and Izza behind, remember, so believe me when I say I know how you felt.”

Remus blinked at her - he hadn’t been expecting that. Marlene laughed briefly. “I have no idea how any of you boys are still single,” she joked. “There must be something you’re not telling us.”

Remus grinned. “Nothing like that. We’re just intelligent enough to recognise that you girls are more trouble than you’re worth,” he teased. 

Marlene pondered that for a minute. “Hmm… James loves Lily, and you dig Izza. Maybe you’re not as intelligent as you all believe.”

“Yeah, you could be right,” Remus conceded.

He thought about everything that had happened recently. _Definitely not as smart as we’d like to think._

* * *

 

“Can I come in?” 

Izza glanced over her shoulder. Sirius was standing in the doorframe, dressed in a grey long-sleeved shirt and red boxer shorts. He looked tired, she thought. His ebony hair curled around his ears; clearly, it was freshly washed.

She nodded and sat down on her stretcher bed (she had let Lily have the proper bed). She crossed her legs and waited as Sirius wandered over and perched on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand through his hair and met her eye, a sheepish smile forming on his lips.

“How’s your head?”

Izza shrugged. “A bit sore. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Sirius chewed his bottom lip briefly, and Izza watched him, waiting for him to spit out whatever was clearly on his mind.

“Sirius,” she said eventually. “What exactly did you want?”

He picked at the sleeve of his shirt. “Something you said has been on my mind,” he explained, looking up at her with those arresting grey eyes of his.

“And what would that be?” Izza asked impassively.

Sirius stood up and began to pace back and forth. “The other night, you said that-”

“Hold on,” Izza interrupted, frowning deeply and holding up a hand to halt him. “The other night?”

“Yeah, you know, when you came to my room?” Sirius said impatiently, still pacing.

“What are you talking about?” Izza drawled, not following what he was talking about at all.

Sirius looked at her for a long time, a little groove forming between his brows. He got on his knees in front of Izza, looking up at her searchingly and taking her hands. “You don’t remember?”

“Clearly not.”

“You came into my room and you said something about… what happened to your face.” Sirius reached up, the tips of his fingers touching her cheekbones briefly.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Izza said, quite flippantly.

“I’m pretty sure you were drunk.”

“ _That_ sounds like me.”

“Izza, what happened?” Sirius was completely serious, and his gaze was far too intense for Izza’s liking. She put a hand on his shoulder and unfolded her legs, putting her feet down on the floor and drawing Sirius closer.

“I tripped. I’m clumsy,” she murmured, leaning in and trailing kisses along his jaw.

“No, you’re not. I’m not playing around, Iz. I’m worried about you.” He tried to meet her eye again, but she simply kissed her way to the corner of his mouth, and he had a hard time keeping his thoughts straight. He knew exactly what she was doing - distracting him, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t working.

“But this is all a game, Sirius. Don’t you want to play with me?” Then she undid him completely, by brushing all her hair over one shoulder, tilting her head to the side to expose her neck and biting her bottom lip.

He reached up, putting his hand on the back of her head and pulling her forward, crushing his mouth to hers. The rush that followed was more dizzying, more incredible than any substance-induced high. There was a hot, hard slide of lips, before he came back to his senses, when he felt Izza’s triumphant smile.

“I’m not playing any games,” Sirius repeated, pulling away.

“That’s a shame,” Izza murmured, taking herself out of his reach. “The game is all I know.”


	16. Chapter 15: Pushing Buttons

**_ CHAPTER FIFTEEN:  _ _ PUSHING BUTTONS _ **

Sirius and Izza were the first to rise the next morning, though Sirius saw her only briefly when she grabbed her breakfast and ran, muttering something about hair and makeup. Sirius could only smile - Izza wasn’t really a morning person and she still looked half-asleep.

He ate his cereal in thoughtful silence, his stomach doing the strange twisting thing it always seemed to do when he thought about Izza. Or heard her name. Or saw her. Or caught the faintest scent of her favourite pomegranate perfume. He frowned into his bowl, cursing himself for being such a fool for her charms.

He listened to the slight noises he could hear from upstairs, as Izza moved around and he wondered - not for the first time, and certainly not for the last - what she was thinking. What did she think about him? About them? It frustrated him - with Izza, you never knew unless she wanted you to...and the incidence of her wanting people to know what was in her head was as rare as hens’ teeth.

Sirius got up and cleaned his bowl, then went back upstairs to change. A restless energy was building in him, making his fingers and legs tingle. He tried to ignore it though; he always seemed to do reckless, stupid things when he felt that way.

He paused outside the bathroom door, his hand poised to knock. There was something he wanted to say to her, but even he wasn’t sure what it was yet. He just knew that there was a pressure in his chest that wouldn’t go away, and he needed to find a way to tell her things. He was about to lower his fist to the wood when he heard the shower come on. He sighed as he lowered his hand and turned away, retreating into his room.

* * *

 

Izza was faced with the tyranny of choice - did she wear the backless dress she had worn at Christmas, or a strapless navy blue dress in a rich velvet material that she had yet to wear anywhere. Though she loved the plum dress, it did hold a lot of memories… and more than its fair share of secrets. The navy dress, on the other hand, was like a clean slate. She ran her hand across it, first the way that felt soft and good, then against the grain. 

She bit her lip and pushed her hands through her hair. It was straight again. Sirius had liked it that way.

Eventually she picked up the blue dress. _Clean slate._

Next was make-up. She decided to go with smoky eyes - it always made the violet-blue of her irises look particularly striking. When she was done, she appraised herself in the mirror. She looked good, except for those fading bruises. She had managed to cover them up pretty well, but if the light hit her skin in a certain way, it was possible to see the yellowing marks.

There was a knock on the door, soft enough that it wouldn’t wake Lily (who wouldn’t be waking any time soon, judging by her soft snoring), and a whispered, “Izza? You ready?”

She grabbed her best cloak and her handbag and went to the door, pausing with her hand on the door handle and drawing in a deep breath before opening it.

Sirius bit his lip, as he looked her up and down. “You look amazing,” he said quietly, his voice still sleep-husky.

She barely heard that. “What did you do?” she laughed, pulling the door shut behind her and looking up at Sirius. He had cut his hair, or rather, cut _some_ of it; the sides were short, but the middle was longer. He looked very Muggle rockstar-esque. Izza loved it. 

A half smirk formed on his lips. “It’ll annoy my mother.”

“I love it.” She reached up and ran her fingers across the short part. It felt strange, in a soft way, like running your hand across the top of a makeup brush.

Sirius took half a step forward, so that Izza was pressed against the bedroom door, his fingers running along the velvet material cladding her hips. He tilted his head and leaned in for a kiss, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “It’s after eleven. We need to go.”

Sirius looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”

Izza followed him down the stairs, watching his back the whole time. She liked so many random little things about him - like the slope of his shoulders, but she didn’t like how tight they seemed to be at that time. She knew she was confusing him, running hot and cold, but every time she felt so much as a hint of happiness with Sirius, guilt hit her with the force of a freight train. There was so much she was hiding from him, including what had happened at Christmas…and even more than that guilt, was the guilt she felt for wishing it had been him the whole time.

Automatically, she reached out and put her hand against his shoulder blade. He glanced at her, his eyebrow lifting slightly, but his shoulders relaxed nonetheless.

When they were on the front porch, Sirius turned to face her so suddenly that she flinched backwards, wishing she hadn’t immediately when she saw the look that crossed his face. It was a look that promised he’d get the truth out of her eventually. Before Izza could even realise what was happening, he was kissing her, with a frightening urgency.

“Sirius.” She broke away, but Sirius was still right there, his lips mere centimetres from her own. His hands cradled the back her head, keeping her tight against him.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmured, brushing her lips with his. “I just wanted to prove a point.”

What point? Izza thought, a little resentfully. That she was more than weak when it came to him - that she was powerless around him? That he was the only one who could make her feel so unbalanced, so addicted?

“Is it too early to start drinking?” Izza muttered to herself.

* * *

 

Lily contemplated the cereal she had just poured for herself, wondering if she would actually be able to keep it down if she ate it. Her unsettled stomach had its doubts. 

“Morning, sunshine.”

Lily looked up as James entered and seated himself opposite her. “Morning,” she said, passing him the cereal bag and the milk. As she watched, he poured some milk directly into the bag and shook it, to mix it up. “Is it really so hard to get a bowl?” she asked, raising her brows.

“Why dirty a bowl? There was only enough left for me anyway. Sirius must have got into it this morning.” James shrugged and picked up a spoon.

“I don’t envy them,” Lily said, stretching idly. “I feel like I could sleep for another day.”

“I don’t envy them because they have to spend a whole day playing perfect little purebloods,” James said, grinning. “The food will be good though.”

Lily laughed and shook her head at him. “All you ever think about is food.”

“And you,” James said charmingly, spooning cereal into his mouth. “Yum, yum.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but James’ joking didn’t annoy her the way it used to. She was getting much better at taking him in her stride. James just winked at her.

“I hate you,” she teased.

He met her eyes, a brilliant smile on his lips. “You can’t hate without love, Lily.” She wondered if that was true, as she managed her first mouthful of breakfast.

* * *

 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Sirius said, stopping in front of the gates to the Malfoy Manor. “Fuck my parents. Let’s go to the pub. Let’s leave the country.” 

 “Sirius. I got out of bed for this. I put on a nice dress and did my face. We are going in.” Izza looked up at Sirius. “You cut your hair. I’m hungry.” She tapped him playfully on the backside. “Let’s just get it over with.”

“Right,” Sirius said, taking a deep breath. “We’re only here for the food.”

The gate opened and Sirius put his hand on the small of Izza’s back. They walked up the drive together, until they eventually reached the open front doors, where a short wizard with a roll of parchment and a quill was waiting.

“Names?” he said gruffly.

“Sirius Black, plus one,” Sirius said.

The wizard looked up from his parchment and eyed Sirius for a moment. Sirius stared back at him.

“Good to see you again, Sirius,” he said, ticking Sirius’ name off the list.

“You too, Kenneth,” Sirius said, though his tone suggested otherwise. “Come on, Iz,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her inside.

“It looks like the Abominable Snowman exploded,” Izza said dryly, looking around.

Sirius had to agree - _everything_ was white. The furniture was white, the curtains were white, there was white crepey material hanging from the ceilings, and little flakes of white confetti were falling and getting on everything. It made Sirius feel a little sick, to be honest. And blind - his eyes stung.

“I feel like I’ve gone blind,” Izza continued, echoing his thoughts. “I actually want to claw my eyes out.”

“Please don’t. They’re so lovely,” Sirius said, taking her arm.

She shot him a look. “Suck up.”

He offered her a little half-smile, but before he could retort, a rather harried-looking witch began ushering the other milling guests into the large entertaining room, which was set up with row upon row of white chairs and an arbor at the front of the room, which was dripping in white flowers.

“So it begins,” Izza sighed. She glanced up at Sirius, and he guessed his expression must have given away the trepidation he felt, because she actually took his hand and squeezed. “Let’s sit in the back, like the cool rebels we are.” 

They did just that, sitting in the very back row of seats. Sirius doubted his cousin would want him front and centre anyway. He looked around surreptitiously - the room was full of people he disliked or outright despised; people who probably felt the same about him - his cousin Bellatrix, the McNairs, even Fenrir Greyback. Perverted, evil freak, Sirius thought, his nose wrinkling in distaste as he looked at Greyback.

“Great minds think alike, eh?” a voice said behind Sirius. He and Izza turned to see his favourite cousin Andromeda.

Andromeda joined them in their row, sitting down on Izza’s right. Andromeda was as beautiful as ever - like Bella, but softer - though Sirius thought she looked tired. Perhaps running around after a four-year-old Metamorphmagus did that to you.

“Andromeda, this is my friend, Izza. Iz, this is my cousin, Andromeda.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Andromeda said, smiling at Izza and shaking her hand. “She’s a pretty one, this one,” Andromeda said to Sirius, winking conspiratorially. Then she blinked and seemed to look at him closely. “What did you do to your hair?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asked, running a hand through his hair and turning his head bald and forth so Andromeda could have a look.  

Andromeda was clearly fighting the giggles. “Walburga is going to _hate_ it.” 

“All the better,” Sirius said, his grey eyes scanning the room for his parents. He couldn’t see them, thank Merlin. “How’s Nymphadora?” he asked.

“A handful, as usual,” Andromeda grinned briefly. “Narcissa wouldn’t let me bring Ted or Dora with me.” She frowned fiercely - it made her look all the more like her sister, Bellatrix.

“Why not?” Izza asked.

 “She said it was difficult enough to convince our parents to let me attend. Besides, it’s not like she has any love for Ted.”

“Why did you come at all?” Sirius asked. “After the way they’ve treated you?”

Andromeda looked to the front of the room, where her parents were standing with the Lestrange brothers. “Narcissa is my sister. I still love her, even if I don’t agree with everything she does or thinks.”

“Family is complicated,” Izza agreed.

They fell silent after that as everyone took their places and the first few musical notes began to float from the piano.

* * *

 

“Do you reckon we can slip out without having to talk to anyone?” Sirius whispered in Izza’s ear. Narcissa and Malfoy were officially married and the guests were milling around, waiting for all the rows of chairs to be removed and replaced with tables ready for the reception. 

“Too late, love,” Izza said, jerking her head to gesture across the room, where Sirius could see his parents making their way toward him. Andromeda had already left them, which Sirius thought was probably a good thing - he doubted his mother would be able to cope with two disowned relatives in one go. The stress would probably be too much for the abyss that she called a heart, Sirius thought sarcastically.

He took a deep breath, watching as Orion stopped to talk to Evan Rosier’s father. Walburga continued towards Sirius, her expression impossible to read. Izza squeezed Sirius’ hand briefly, before letting it go. He wished she hadn’t.

“Sirius, darling, you made it.” Walburga’s tone held none of the warmth that a mother’s should.

He almost flinched at the term of endearment too - coming from her, it sounded more like a dirty word.

“Mother,” he said tightly.

She looked over him disapprovingly. “What in Merlin’s name have you done to your hair?”

“You look ridiculous.”

Sirius shifted his gaze to his father, who had spoken. Orion was an older image of his son, right down the intense, cool grey eyes. Izza had never met him before - she stared at him in open surprise that someone who looked so much like his son could be so different that Sirius had been driven from his home. He put a hand on Walburga’s shoulder and looked Izza up and down briefly before looking back at Sirius.

“It’s good to see you too, Dad.” Sirius was looking at the floor. 

“My name is Isidora Moldovan,” Izza said, offering her hand to Orion. Presumably, she was attempting to distract Orion and Walburga, and stop Sirius from saying anything he might regret. He didn’t look up, instead letting Izza do what she did best - charm people.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Orion said, looking at her properly now and kissing her hand briefly. “I knew your father. I was sorry to hear of his death.”

Izza nodded her thanks, her lips pressing into a thin line. She shook Walburga’s hand.

Up until that point, Walburga had barely spared Izza more than a cursory glance, but now she looked at her properly, her eyes appraising. Sirius knew that look - his mother was sizing Izza up, judging her suitability. To her credit, Izza stood straight and proud, her expression haughty and devoid of emotion. Sirius was impressed - many a wizard had faltered under his mother’s stare. But then again, Izza has never been afraid of anything, and she too had been raised under the same scrutiny.

She seemed to past the test - Sirius could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile on the corners of Walburga’s mouth.

“Your taste in friends seems to have improved a little,” she said.

“Not really,” Sirius said shortly. He looked at Izza, but she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation anymore - she was watching a dark haired man with an impressive beard, who had just entered.

“If you’ll excuse me, I just spotted an old friend,” Izza said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, she began to work her way through the crowd, not bothering to wait for anyone to answer her.

Sirius parents seemed a little taken aback by Izza’s abrupt departure - they, of course, didn’t know her and therefore didn’t know that it was just another little part of her character.

“She’s very attractive.” Walburga’s voice was contemplative. “And well-bred too.”

Sirius wished he could melt into the floor and disappear forever.

* * *

 

Izza bade goodbye to Vitaly in his native Russian - his English was broken at best, and his Romanian was even worse - and turned away, heading straight for the open bar. Vitaly was an old business associate of her father and he had only dropped in briefly to congratulate the Malfoy’s, with whom he had also had a long business association. It was good to see him - he was good-humoured and very witty and generally a pleasure to converse with. She remember many nights at home in Romania, spying with Kes through a slightly ajar kitchen door as Vitaly and her father drank wine and reminisced about their days at school together. 

She indicated the barman for a drink, and as she waited, she spotted Sirius approaching out of the corner of her eye.

“How did you get away - oh, it’s you.” She broke off as she realised that, in fact, it wasn’t Sirius at all - it was Regulus Black. In her peripheral vision, the brothers were impossible to tell apart. 

“Don’t look so pleased.” The younger Black also raised a finger to the bartender, asking for a drink.

Izza ignored that. “You seventeen yet?” She lifted her chin in the direction of the alcohol.

“Not for a couple of weeks.” Regulus glanced around, then winked and pressed a finger to his lips. “Our little secret.” Regulus sipped his Firewhiskey, grimacing briefly as the burning liquid slid down his throat. Izza rolled her eyes - weak, she thought.

“So, where is my dear brother?” he asked, watching as Izza downed her drink in one go.

“With your parents,” she answered shortly. She asked the bartender for another drink, thinking Sirius would probably kill for one right about now. “Was there something you wanted specifically?”

Regulus shook his head after contemplating her for a moment.

“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I would much rather spend my time with someone else.”

* * *

 

James Potter was lying in the snow, a brilliant smile on his lips as he looked up at the clear blue sky. 

Lily, who was sitting next to him, found herself staring at him, with something that might have been wonder. How could someone get so much joy from just lying in the cold powder, staring up at the sky? How could someone enjoy being alive so much, especially in such times? She almost envied him the simple joy he took in the world around him.

She was distracted momentarily by Mary’s shriek, as Marlene lobbed a snowball in her direction. The six had gone out into the backyard for fresh air at Euphemia’s suggestion. She had probably been right to do so - they were going a little stir crazy inside.

A smile formed on her lips.

“What?” James said, tilting his head to look at her. Snow clung to his hair, brilliant white on deep black.

“What?” she asked in return.

“What’s that smile for?”

Lily’s smile widened and she looked down at James. “This is a perfect moment.”

“Wow,” James said, lifting a brow. “A perfect moment for Lily Evans, which involves James Potter. I thought the day would never come.”

“Seriously, Potter.”

He paused. “Would you look at us,” James laughed, whistling through his teeth. “Having a moment.” He grinned. “Admittedly, it’s not the sort of _moment_ I’d like…” He ran his tongue along the edge of his upper teeth suggestively.

Lily scooped up a handful of snow and threw it at his face. “You had to ruin it, eh?"

* * *

“Clear the floor, please.” 

Izza pressed a drink into Sirius’ hand. They were leaning against the wall, slightly away from the dance floor, which was being cleared so that Narcissa could have her father-daughter dance. Sirius put his free arm around Izza’s shoulders, and she just let him, barely even reacting.

It was funny, Sirius thought, the way you could know someone, and not know them at the same time. He found it incredibly difficult to read Izza most of the time, yet right then, he could almost feel the bad vibes rolling off her. She was in one hell of a mood it seemed.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked, and just a moment later, he regretted it. Izza’s eyes were on Narcissa and her father.

“It’s not like I can ever see myself getting married,” she said eventually. “But if I ever did, it kind of sucks that I’ll never get a father-daughter dance.”

Sirius wasn’t sure how to answer her. To say he understood would just be a ridiculous, blatant lie and to say everything would be okay wasn’t true either. He wished he knew the exact right thing to say to her, to make her feel better. He didn’t want her to regret her honesty.

“What was he like? Your father?” He said it before he could help it, and immediately gave himself a mental kick. Izza didn’t like to talk about her father at the best of times, let alone now, when his absence was clearly on her mind.

She didn’t freeze up however, or immediately deflect the question, like Sirius expected. Izza closed her eyes, as if she were pulling up a mental image of her father. “He was like me. But nicer.” She laughed briefly, then looked up at him. “That’s not hard, though.”

Sirius lifted his hand from her shoulder and stroked her hair, kissing her temple. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“And you are too soft on me. Balance,” she murmured.

Other people were flooding onto the dance floor now, so Sirius drained his drink and took Izza’s hand. “Let’s dance.” 

Sirius was sure he’d never felt quite so out of place in his life. He and Izza drew sidelong glances from some of the people around them and looks of open contempt from others. There were, of course, the usual stares of men that Izza drew wherever she went too. As he turned with Izza, his eyes fell on his brother, who was standing with Jared Avery and Evan Rosier. Regulus lifted his glass slightly in acknowledgment; Sirius pretended he hadn’t seen anything.

“This has got to be one of the stranger days of my life,” he said musingly. Izza didn’t answer, apparently lost in her own thoughts and in the music and the dancing.

When the song ended, Sirius and Izza left the floor. Between her strange mood and his eagerness to be away from the eyes of all the other guests, neither felt much like dancing anymore.

“I think we’ve stayed long enough,” Sirius said. “I say we get our stuff and go.”

Izza just nodded. Sirius wondered if he had upset her by asking about her father, and was about to ask her what was wrong, when a voice from behind them stopped him.

“Heard about your boy toy, Moldovan. What a shame, eh?”

Izza looked over her shoulder. Sirius’ hand automatically sought out his wand in his pocket as he turned to face Avery, who had spoken. Regulus and Evan Rosier stood with him, and even Rosier wasn’t smiling anymore.

Izza stared at Avery for a long time, and to Sirius’ satisfaction, the Slytherin seemed somewhat disconcerted by her gaze. She eventually broke the eye contact to glance up at Sirius, before her eyes swept slowly over the three boys, her expression withering.

“Do you have a problem, Avery?” she asked, not bothering to be polite. “Apart from the obvious?”

Avery smirked briefly - the expression looked almost wrong on his usually impassive face. “Put the claws away, Moldovan. I was just trying to make conversation and extend my condolences.”

“I don’t mind claws. Or biting,” Rosier said, his grin returning and bordering on lascivious. 

Izza’s stare shifted to Rosier, and Sirius was certain that if looks could kill, Evan Rosier would be extremely dead.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day, Rosier,” Sirius said, taking a protective hold of Izza’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

Once again, Izza seemed not to hear him. “Condolences?” she repeated scathingly. “More like you wanted to gloat. You were probably there, right? Watching? Joining in with all those other cowards in masks?” A cold smirk curled the corners of Izza’s lips.

Sirius wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to grab Izza and run. She had an uncanny talent for pressing people’s buttons, and the look on Avery’s face suggested she had just pressed his big red button, the one labelled DO NOT PRESS. He was very aware of Avery’s right hand, which was clenching his wand so tightly that his knuckles were white.

“Let’s go, Iz,” Sirius repeated, leaning in to her ear. “If it comes to a fight, it’s two on a hundred. Even I don’t like those odds.”

“A word of advice, Avery,” Izza said, stepping right up into Avery’s face so she could speak in a low, dangerous tone. “I’m not afraid of you. I will hex you into next year if you keep annoying me. So _back off_.”

With that, she turned and walked away. Sirius hurried after her, shaking his head as she snapped her fingers impatiently at the man who was in charge of the cloakroom.

“What?” she asked, when they were outside and she noticed him looking at her.

“I am so turned on by you right now.”


	17. Chapter 16: The Point of No Return

**_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE POINT OF NO RETURN _ **

Lily was sure that she wasn’t supposed to feel relieved and glad to be going back to school. Students of all kinds were supposed to love holidays and dread the return to class, but after the events of the Christmas holidays, Lily could not wait to get back to Hogwarts - back to safety, to familiarity and routine, where she didn’t have to think about Death Eaters killing innocent people or feel unsafe just by stepping outside. 

If anything, the holiday had made them all more tired and stressed than actual schoolwork did. Izza, for example, had barely spoken four words to anyone in the past few days, since attending Sean von Bertouch’s funeral. The funeral had been a bad day - Izza had left the house with an expression as black as the velvet cloak she wore and had returned late in the day, accepting the arm Sirius offered her after he met her at James’ door, and leaning against him like she didn’t have the strength to keep herself upright anymore. A constant, gnawing worry had settled in Lily - she worried for her friend. She felt like she was seeing less and less of the fun-loving Izza, and more of the silent, brooding Izza who had come back from Romania.

Similarly, Remus avoided unnecessary contact with his friends, preferring to remain withdrawn and quiet. Lily had managed to get him talking with her long enough to apologise for what she had said at the pub. He had told her that it didn’t matter; it had to come out eventually, and he wasn’t mad. She believed him, but she still felt terrible, and worried that he looked sickly.

The train ride back to school was mercifully uneventful. James and Lily walked the length of the train together, patrolling and ensuring everyone was doing the right thing. Everyone was - Lily almost wanted to catch someone playing a silly prank, or something, just to distract herself for a while.

Dinner, however, was awful. Sean’s absence was glaring, and Dumbledore paid tribute to him, asking for a minute of silence. It was the longest minute of Lily’s life.

He also mentioned how impressed he was by reports that were filtering through to him about the bravery of certain students, and though he named no names, Lily reached over and put a hand on Izza’s arm. If she looked, she could see Laura von Bertouch at the Ravenclaw table with her friends, her faced pinched and sad...but alive nonetheless.

The first few days of the new term passed without event, until Sirius spotted a square of parchment on the Gryffindor noticeboard, announcing that the next Duelling Club meet would be tomorrow - Friday - night. He pointed it out to everyone as they passed on their way to lunch on Thursday afternoon.

“Well, they didn’t waste any time,” Marlene muttered, as they gathered around the board.

“That’s probably a good thing,” Remus said.

“I suppose…” Marlene sounded doubtful. She and Remus turned away from the board, heading towards the portrait hole. Ahead of them, Sirius and Izza were walking, their heads close together as they conversed. Sirius was holding Izza’s hand. Behind them, they could hear James, Peter, Lily and Mary still talking as they looked at the noticeboard. “I see one problem, though.”

“The Slytherins who are quite possibly mixed up with Death Eaters are being taught everything that we are?” Remus asked, with a wry smile.

“Exactly. Great minds think alike, hey?”

“Yes, they do, McKinnon.”

Marlene smiled at Remus, but even as she did, he frowned. Up ahead, Sirius and Izza had stopped, looking each other in the eye. The way they were leaning, towards the bend in the corridor, made Marlene think they were listening to something. As they approached, Izza pressed a finger to her lips.

From around the corner, angry voices floated towards them.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Garrett.”

“Well I do! You can’t avoid this forever, Finn.”

Izza mouthed the word ‘Macleod’ to Sirius, who nodded.

“I’m not avoiding anything -” Finn started to hiss, but his friend cut him off.

“No, you’re saving your own skin!”

“You don’t know anything, Garrett. I don’t have to justify my choices to you.”

There was a bitter chuckle, presumably from the friend. “You never deserved her, Finn, and this has got to end. If you don’t tell Dumbledore, I will.”

No more words were spoken, but the group could hear two sets of footsteps retreating. They exchanged looks and Izza leaned around the corner, checking to make sure they were gone.

“What was that about?” Marlene asked.

“Garrett,” Izza said musingly, looking at the floor, then back up at Sirius. “That’d be Garrett Jennings, the Hufflepuff Keeper.”

Sirius nodded. The four were silent and still for a while, thinking over what they heard. It was a pretty intense fight for a couple of fifth years to be having, and they all felt a burning curiosity as to the subject of the argument. Who was the mysterious ‘her’? And what was Garrett threatening to tell Dumbledore about?

* * *

 

“I cannot wait until it’s time to go down for Duelling Club!” James sighed, flinging himself into the seat opposite Lily.

She looked up briefly. She had been trying to take advantage of the relative quietness of the common room to get some work done before Duelling Club, but apparently, Potter had other ideas. “What’s the problem?” she asked, already thinking about what she was going to write next.

“Sirius. And Izza.” James looked over at the boy’s staircase contemplatively. “Together. On _my_ bed,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Lily laughed and looked at James properly. “I can see how you might feel strongly about that. I, however, was under the impression that...that wasn’t part of their relationship yet.” She looked up at James, frowning in confusion. “Are they even in a relationship?”

“They weren’t shagging, thank Merlin. I would have killed Sirius, if they were. And no, they’re not in a relationship, per se. I don’t think.” James sighed - he wished Sirius and Izza would talk properly, but they were both afraid of letting the other close enough to see it all - all the secrets and the insecurities and all the ways they could get hurt.

“Do you want my opinion?” Lily asked, ending her sentence with a flourish and looking up at James.

He came back to earth and grinned at her. “I’m sure you’ll give it to me anyway.”

“Give Sirius a taste of his own medicine.”

“Devilish, Evans,” James said, nodding as he considered her. “I like it. Care to help me out?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Dream on, Potter.”

James stretched luxuriously and checked his watch. “Come on,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Upstairs, Sirius and Izza had moved to the safety of Sirius’ own bed, after James had threatened to castrate him, and they had drawn the hangings shut, to prevent any more interruptions. He wouldn’t be responsible for his actions, if anyone did interrupt them again - somehow he had managed to work Izza’s jumper off, and get her shirt unbuttoned, and he wanted - needed - more of her. 

“Heel, boy,” Izza murmured, gently pushing Sirius away.

“Shit, sorry,” he said - in his eagerness, his elbow had caught her in the ribs.

“It’s okay.” She pressed a brief kiss to his jaw, but her hand, which rested at the base of his throat, kept him at bay. “We’re not hurrying this, okay?” she added, as if she had read his mind. “After everything, I think we can afford to take our time with the physical stuff.” She ran a teasing hand down his chest before kissing him once more and sitting up, re-buttoning her shirt. She opened the hangings, to let the light in.

Sirius groaned and flopped over on his back. “You trying to kill me?”

“What, can’t handle a little _anticipation?_ ” Her smirk made Sirius want to shove her back against his pillows and have his wicked, wicked way with her.

“I can handle it fine, thank you. You’re just too sexy for my own good.”

Izza pulled her jumper back on and offered Sirius her best, most unapologetic smile. Her long hair was tousled, her full lips were bright and she looked so much more alive than she had in a while - since Christmas, really. It made Sirius’ heart kick into a higher gear, to think that maybe he had something to do with that, that maybe he’d made her feel a little better, at least for a time.

He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, looking up at Izza with unabashed fascination. She curled one leg beneath herself and a slow smile curled her lips. Seemingly, she was about to say something, when the dormitory door burst open and James entered, one hand covering his eyes.

“I am entering the room. Please cease and desist any unsavoury activities.”

Sirius looked at Izza, who appeared to be fighting back laughter.

“Prongs, you idiot, open your eyes,” Sirius said, as James swung his other hand blindly, narrowly avoiding running headlong into the post of Remus’ bed.

He did so tentatively, before grinning in relief. “You’re fully clothed. Thank Merlin.”

“Is there a point to this?” Sirius asked.

“Yep,” James said, nodding.

Sirius raised a brow, when nothing more was forthcoming.

“Oh, right. It’s time to go down for Duelling Club.”

* * *

 

“I am going to have so many bruises tomorrow,” Lily groaned, stretching her arms into the air. The group was walking back to the Gryffindor tower after Duelling Club.

Marlene, who was walking beside her, and who was mostly responsible for her injuries, smirked in a very self-satisfied way. “Suck it up, Princess.”

Lily stuck her tongue out at her friend. Up ahead, she could hear Izza laughing. The other girl was walking with Sirius and James; Remus, Mary and Peter were bringing up the rear. As Lily watched, Sirius grabbed James in a mock-headlock, presumably as punishment for the comment that had made Izza laugh. James angled his body towards Lily and Marlene, gasping with laughter.

“Evans, help me,” he choked out.

“Not a chance,” she called to him, with a grin. “You probably deserve it.”

James went to say something in return, but a moment later, both he and Sirius tripped backwards and landed in a tangle of sprawled limbs. Their friends rushed forward to help them, half laughing and half concerned.

“What the hell?” James said, sitting up slowly. Beside him, Sirius clutched the back of his head and groaned.

As Lily, Marlene, Remus, Peter and Mary approached them, Izza went to hold her hands out to the boys, but stopped halfway through the motion.

“Well fuck,” she said, colour draining out of her face.

“It’s alright,” Sirius said, rubbing the back of his head, “It’s just a bump - no blood or anything.”

“It’s not that,” Izza said slowly. “It’s the body you tripped over.”

* * *

 

Kes Moldovan put his head further down, so that the bottom half of his face was concealed by his scarf. His cloak’s hood shaded his eyes and he sat at the bar, with his back facing the rest of the pub. No one had looked twice at him yet - The Hogs Head regularly saw strange folk - and he held high hopes that his return to England would remain unnoticed. He wanted Isidora to continue to think he was in Romania.

He tightened his grip on his glass as the pub door swung open and an arctic winter blast swirled about the dim room. Shifting slightly, he cast a glance over his shoulder and, almost immediately, his stomach dropped. The woman shrugging off her cloak in the doorway was tall and distinguished-looking, with bright blonde hair and cold, pale blue eyes.

Catrine.

The woman behind her had thick black hair, flawless ivory skin and bore a strong resemblance to Isidora’s friend Sirius. Her name was Bellatrix - Kes remembered she had been a couple of years ahead of him at Hogwarts.

He lowered his head further as the women took up a table near him, looking as out-of-place as the Muggle Queen would in a small, dirty pub. This was the last thing he needed. Kes sent a silent prayer to whatever deity was listening. _Don’t recognise me. Please don’t recognise me._

“So, did you take care of your little problem?” Catrine said. Though his back was turned, he would know her voice anywhere. It was the only one capable of sending chills down his spine. He knew what his mother was capable of; her stunt at Christmas had been little more than sport to her.

“Oh, yes.”  Bellatrix had a dark, slightly rough laugh. “Teenagers are so obedient. I give orders and they climb over each other to get it done first and gain my favour.”

“What about the Collins girl?”

“Not my problem. Someone else’s.” 

“Right. And the seventh years?”

There was a slight pause. “We have a plan.”

Kes could see, in his mind’s eye, the look that was probably gracing his mother’s face - the contemptuous lift of the brow, the disdainful curl of her lips. When she spoke, she enunciated slowly, an undercurrent of menace beneath her amiable tone. “I want my daughter. The others… I don’t care what you do with them.”

“Yes, yes, no one lays a hand on princess.”

Kes felt cold all over, and not even the Firewhiskey in his glass could warm him. He didn’t know what his mother wanted, or what she had planned, but he knew there was no boundaries to the lengths she would go to get what she wanted. Remorse, regret, guilt, empathy - none of these were in her vocabulary, let alone her emotional range.

* * *

 

Sirius scrambled away as if he’d been burned. “I thought that was James’ leg,” he said, staring at the leg that was sticking out from the shadows of an alcove. His face was ashen, his grey eyes dark.

James jumped to his feet, looking like he was going to be sick. Izza, however, got down on her knees and pulled out her wand. “ _Lumos_.” The glow of her wand illuminated a scene that made Lily’s stomach turn and the whole world seemed to tilt off axis.

A Hufflepuff boy, of about fifteen by the look of him, was sprawled out on his back, glassy, horribly blank eyes staring off at nothing. And, as much as Lily couldn’t look at his lifeless eyes, what was worse was his open throat and the bright blood that was everywhere - all over the floor, all over the boys’ face and mouth. Lily squeezed her eyes shut, willing the image to go away. She knew enough about anatomy to know that he wouldn’t have died straight away - it would have been slow and painful and panicked as he choked on the blood pouring into his damaged throat and slowly died from the extreme loss of blood…

“Oh, Garrett…” Izza murmured.

Lily heard Remus and Marlene say something about ‘help’ and then footsteps running away, but she was focused on James, who spoke next.

“This is wrong,” he managed to get out. “He’s just a kid. Who would do this?”

Izza looked over at Sirius, who was hugging his knees to his chest, as if to hold himself together and shaking violently. “He was going to tell Dumbledore something,” she said, slowly. “This is a message - Garrett knew something that someone didn’t want to get out. They’re showing people what will happen if they talk.”

Lily’s brain, which apparently had frozen up just after Garrett’s body was revealed, was slowly catching up. “What do you mean, he knew something?”

“We heard him,” Sirius said, unable to tear his eyes from the lifeless fifth year. “This morning, arguing with Finn Macleod. He said Macleod was avoiding something, and that he never deserved ‘her’ and that it had to end, so he was telling Dumbledore.”

“’Her’?” Lily repeated. Then, suddenly, it hit. “Esther Collins! She was Finn’s girlfriend - he must know something about what happened to her.” She looked at James, momentarily caught up in the excitement of discovery. “I knew he knew something. There was just something so weird about what he said to me that day in the hospital wing.”

“Now do you see?” James asked her, still looking ill. “Do you see why I didn’t want you asking questions?”

“He’s still warm,” Izza said quietly, brushing Garrett’s hair back off his forehead.

Until that point, shock had kept Mary and Peter silent, but the latter spoke up at that point. “You mean whoever did this could still be nearby?” Peter’s voice shook - he was frightened. Mary, it seemed, could not speak. She pressed her face to Peter’s shoulder and cried.  

Lily could hear footsteps, though through the haze of horror they sounded faint and far away. The next thing she knew, she was being gently pushed aside as McGonagall, Flitwick and Buchanan arrived on the scene. Professor McGonagall gasped out loud as she beheld Garrett. The colour drained almost completely from Professor Buchanan’s face and Professor Flitwick let out a loud squeak.

“Mr Lupin,” McGonagall said, after taking a moment to compose herself. “Go fetch Professor Dumbledore. Filius, block off that end of the corridor. Mr Potter?”

James looked up at the sound of his name. His face was very pale and, quite suddenly, Lily felt an urge to take his hand and tell him that everything would be okay. She couldn’t see how it could be okay, but she would tell him that anyway.

“Could you block the other end of the corridor?” McGonagall asked.

James breathed in deeply and squared his shoulders, nodding determinedly. He didn’t say anything as he turned on his heel and strode away down the corridor.

For a while, a caustic silence fell across the remaining group. Lily couldn’t hear or feel anything other than the rush of blood in her ears, and the frantic _beat, beat, beat_ of her heart. _What a strange time to feel so alive_ , she thought.

Lily refocused when the sound of more footsteps broke through her reverie. She could hear James’ voice down the end of the corridor, followed by Remus’ and Professor Dumbledore’s. She looked back down at Garrett’s body. Izza was surreptitiously sliding her hand out of the pocket of her robes and Lily opened her mouth to ask her what she was doing, but Dumbledore reached them a moment later.

He was quiet for a moment, his bright blue eyes taking in the scene before him. Lily watched him, all other thoughts disappearing as she waited for the Headmaster to react. She wanted to hear him say something, anything.

* * *

 

“Would you do it?”

Lily blinked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Izza look up at Sirius and though she couldn’t see it, she could imagine the way her brow would lift. The pair was lying face to face on Sirius’ bed. Lily was sitting on James’ bed and she was in such a state of shock, that she didn’t mind the fact that Potter was actually holding her hand. In fact, she took great comfort in the warmth of his palm. Remus and Marlene were sitting cross-legged on the end of Sirius’s bed; Peter and Mary were on the floor in between James and Sirius’ beds. None of them could bear going to their own beds or dorms and attempting to sleep. The simple idea of sleep seemed impossible. Every time Lily closed her eyes she could see Garrett’s slashed, open throat.

“Do what?” Izza spoke quietly, but the room was silent, so everyone heard her.

“Kill someone to save your own life?”

“You think Finn did that to Garrett? To his friend?” Marlene asked.

Sirius propped himself up on his elbow. “No. But I think he knew what was going to happen, and he did nothing to stop it.”

Izza sat up against Sirius’ headboard. “Perhaps there are things going on in Hogwarts we don’t understand...people making others do terrible things,” she mused, and everyone looked at her. “I don’t know if I could truly answer the question unless I was faced with the situation.” She looked at Sirius.

“Are you serious?” Lily asked, looking up at her friend. “You would let someone else be hurt, if it meant you got off free?”

Izza shrugged. “I’m not saying I would. I’m not saying I wouldn’t. I’m saying I can’t make a judgement, because I’ve never faced a situation like that. If you think I wouldn’t do _anything_ for you all, then...”

“I agree,” Remus said, quite suddenly.

“Thank you.”

“Can we stop talking about this, _please?_ ” Mary said. She look pale and scared - she looked like Lily felt.

Izza stretched and grabbed Sirius’ wrist, looking at his watch. “I’m going to bed,” she said, as if it were no big deal. Lily couldn’t even imagine sleeping. It seemed so far beyond her at that point.

“Stay here tonight,” Sirius murmured, catching her hand as she stood up.

Izza turned around to face him, lifting her hand so that her fingers were under his chin, angling his face up towards her. “Aww, sweetheart. If you’re frightened, I’m sure James will cuddle with you.” And with that, she left the room.

Marlene looked almost indignant. “How can she possibly act so normal?”

“That’s how she deals with things,” James said gently, squeezing Lily’s hand.

Lily stood up. She was sure sleep would elude her, but now that Izza had gone ahead back to their dorm, she felt better about giving it a shot. She wasn’t embarrassed to admit that she had been afraid of going back to the dormitory alone. “I’m going to go too,” she said. Marlene and Mary followed suit, and they bade goodnight to the boys.

Izza was already asleep, or at least, she was pretending to be. She was a little too still to be properly asleep - Izza was the most restless sleeper Lily knew. Lily looked at her for a minute, through the slight gap in her hangings. Her dark hair was loose and spread across her pillow and she looked, for all the world, _peaceful_. Lily tried to imagine Izza not being around, tried to imagine the lives of any of her friends being put out as easily as Garrett Jennings’ had. It seemed impossible.

It took what felt like a lifetime for Lily to get to sleep that night, and when she did, her dreams - nightmares - were filled with blood and shadows and darkness.

* * *

 

The next day, and the days that followed, was like a dream. They were questioned in horrible detail about their every move leading up to the discovery of Garrett’s body by Professor Dumbledore and a team of Ministry officials. News that something awful had happened spread quickly throughout the school, despite the fact that everyone who knew the true nature of what had happened to Garrett Jennings had been told to keep quiet about it. Lily was sure Professor Dumbledore had probably received a flurry of letters from panicked parents - she had seen owls flocking around the windows of his office.

As for herself, Lily felt stretched to breaking point. She worried about her friends. She worried about other students - innocent children who were in danger, just because of the war that was starting to rage around them. Her days were a tense, worried mess of stress - schoolwork continued to pile up, of course, and now more than ever, Dumbledore counted on her and James to be leaders, and to keep their eyes and ears open. She no longer felt like a teenager. She felt like she was dragging the weight of the world behind her.

The same strain showed in each of her friends, and it scared Lily. She didn’t want to lose any of them, or see them suffering - not even James Potter. The recent events had put into perspective how juvenile her so-called hatred for him had been. He still had an incredible capacity to infuriate her, though she tried not to let anything get to her. She had enough on her plate, to be honest.

Most surprisingly of all, Lily found herself venting to James, _confiding_ in him. They had stepped up their corridor-patrolling regimen, and the hours in each other’s company gave them ample opportunity to talk. Mostly she told him about her fears for their friends, because it was a worry they shared.

Foremost in Lily’s mind was Remus and Izza. The former, because he looked downright ill - he was thinner, she thought, with permanent dark circles beneath his eyes and pale, fragile-looking skin. James assured Lily that Remus thought he was probably just coming down with a cold, nothing to worry about. She always worried about Izza of course, especially since Christmas. Izza still seemed changed by whatever had happened during the holidays. Four days after Garrett’s death, she had received a letter - just another one of more than a dozen that had been sent to her since Christmas. As far as Lily knew, they all remained unopened in the drawer of Izza’s bedside table.

Later, Lily wondered if it was this overbearing worry that caused her to do what she did, later that evening on the fourth day after Garrett’s murder. She supposed she’d already set herself a precedent, but…

She was in the common room, with Sirius and Izza, trying to get the Transfiguration essay that she had been putting off for days done. None of them were speaking, and when Lily looked over at Izza to ask what she had written for question six she saw that the other girl hadn’t actually done any work; she’d just covered her entire parchment with her idle patterns.

Izza had been distracted all day by something or other, looking thousands of kilometres away. She hadn’t eaten anything either. Lily was about to ask her what was on her mind, when she rolled up her parchment and stood, stretching.

“This is pointless. I’m going to bed.” She leaned over her table and touched Sirius’ hand briefly, then forced a smile for Lily, the way she had all week to try and convince her she was fine, and disappeared up the stairs.

Lily watched her go and waited until she heard the door of the girl’s dorm shut, before making eye contact with Sirius.

“I’m worried about her.”

Sirius stared at her for a long time, until Lily felt positively uncomfortable under his grey gaze. Then, finally, he shifted in his seat and said, “Yeah, me too.”

“I don’t know what to do though,” Lily said, looking down at the ground. “She doesn’t -”

“What?” Sirius asked, wondering why she had broken off mid-sentence.

“That’s her bag.” Lily looked over at the staircase, then back to Izza’s bag. “And that’s her letter.” Lily leaned over the arm of her chair and pulled the letter from Izza’s bag.

Sirius sat up. “You’re not going - Evans, I don’t think reading that is a good idea. You know what she’s like.”

“Don’t you want to know what’s wrong with her?” Lily asked, slipping a finger under the broken seal and opening up the envelope, before Sirius’ guilt trip could work.

Sirius looked extremely conflicted. “She’s going to kill us,” Sirius said, matter-of-factly, but he came over and sat next to Lily nonetheless.

“ _Isidora,”_ Lily read aloud.

_“Please answer my letters. I understand you are mad at me, and you have every right to be. I should have told you what I knew the moment I found out myself - in fact, I penned you a letter, but I was never brave enough to send it._

_Isidora, our mother does not define us. Who we are and the relationship we have is no different. Please, write me back. I cannot lose my sister too._

_If Catrine contacts you, ignore her. I don’t know what she wants, but I know it can’t be good. I know you don’t care for anything I have to say right now, but I promise you I will always protect you. The one time I have kept the truth from you was to protect you - don’t begrudge me the desire to keep the only thing I care for in my life safe._

_Write me back, Isidora. I don’t care if it’s one sentence, and I don’t care if that one sentence is telling me that you’re still so mad at me that you’d like to cause me some sort of grievous bodily harm. Anything is better than your silence._

_Love, always,_

_Kes._

“She’s not speaking to Kes?” Sirius said, surprised and concerned.

The envelope was still heavy; Lily put the letter down on her knees and turned the envelope upside down. A thick silver ring fell out onto her palm.

“That’s my brother’s ring,” Sirius said, frowning as he reached out and picked it up, turning it over and over, examining it.

“What do you mean, your brothers’ ring?”

“I mean it’s his ring - look, this is the Black family crest. I have one too, but I don’t wear it.” Sirius held it up in front of her. “See his initials?”

She did - _R.A.B_ was engraved into the inside of the ring.

“Why does Izza have your brother’s ring?” Lily asked slowly.

“I don’t know.” Sirius swallowed, looking deeply troubled. “That’s enough,” he said, shaking his shoulders out and looking up at her. “Evans, we shouldn’t do this. Put it away-”

“Shouldn’t do what?”

Sirius and Lily both whipped around; Izza was coming towards them, her expression playful. Sirius grabbed the letter out of Lily’s hands and tried to stuff it out of sight, but it was too late; Izza’s sharp gaze caught the motion and her expression froze, the smile sliding off her lips.

“Please tell me that is not mine,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. 

“It’s not - we just -” Lily stuttered, but it was no use. Izza snatched her letter out of Sirius’ hand.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Izza snapped, storming away and disappearing through the portrait hole.

“Stay there,” Sirius said to Lily, a little more harshly than he intended - why oh why hadn’t he made a real effort to stop her from reading Izza’s letter? He followed Izza out the portrait hole. “Iz, wait! Where are you going? It’s after curfew, you’ll -”

“Stop it,” she snarled, turning on her heel. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks. “I don’t want to hear excuses or apologies. I don’t want to hear another word from your mouth - or Lily’s - and I don’t want to look at you.” She threw her hands up in the air; her fingers curled like claws. “I just want to strangle you right now. You think because we’re friends with benefits or whatever that you have the right to look at my private things?”

“I don’t think that. I’m worried about you; Evans is worried about you. You’re different. I mean, what the fuck happened to you? What the fuck happened at Christmas? Why aren’t you speaking to your brother? Why do you have my brother’s ring?” He held it up in front of her face, using his free hand to push her against the wall.

Izza’s teeth were gritted; Sirius knew, because he could see the muscle near her temple flicker. “Your brother’s ring was clenched in Garrett Jennings’ _dead_ hand. Do you know what that looks like?” Izza’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

Sirius felt like she’d slapped him across the face. “What?” he said, his voice coming out in a whisper.

“You heard me. And in case this isn’t clear enough -” she really did slap him across the face. Sirius didn’t react - he deserved it, he knew that. “I’m _done_ , Sirius. Whatever this is,” she gestured between them, “it’s done. I don’t want to talk to you, or Lily. Just leave me alone, and leave my personal life alone.”

She moved to brush past him, but Sirius caught her by the elbow.

 “Please, Izza… Izza, please, don’t look at me like that.”

Her expression didn’t change. “Like what?”

“Like you’ll never forgive me.”

“Just let me go,” she snarled, wrenching out of his grip and storming away, leaving him alone in the corridor.

Lily was waiting for him back in the common room. All he could do was give her a desolate look and say, “We fucked up, Evans. I’ve seen her mad, but I haven’t seen her like this. I doubt she’ll ever speak to me again.” Sirius was pacing, running his fingers through his ‘sleepy hawk’ as James had affectionately nicknamed Sirius’ hairstyle. 

Lily didn’t answer. She felt awful, like the whole world was crashing around her. So much worry, so much sadness, so much guilt… and now she had alienated her best friend, when all she had wanted to do was help. How did things get so screwed up?

“I’m going to bed,” Sirius said, already moving towards the stairs. “Tomorrow we make her listen while we apologise profusely.”

She said nothing. All that she had been holding in for the past few days swelled to the surface, creating a horrible lump in her throat, and then, quite suddenly, tears were flooding down her cheeks.

_“_ How can we go back from here?” she asked Sirius, her voice coming out all broken.

He paused on the stairs, his shoulders tensing. Slowly, he turned to look at her. “We can’t, Lily.”


	18. Chapter 17: Alibi

**_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: ALIBI _ **

Izza blinked, her vision swimming. Something warm was dripping into her left eye, and her mouth tasted coppery, like blood. “Mary!” she called, though it came out as a rasping, whisper type sound. She pulled herself a little more upright and squinted into the gloom, wishing her eyes would focus… she wondered where Black was. She spat out a mouthful of blood, her vision faltering, then going black.

* * *

 

**_A few hours earlier:_ **

Izza sighed and turned around, raising a brow as Mary tried to duck behind a fence to avoid being seen. “I can see you. And I can _hear_ you. Do me a favour and never go into espionage. You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

Mary had the good grace to look sheepish as she emerged from her hiding place.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re following me?” Izza said, as Mary fell into step beside her.

“Because I suspect you’re going to drink a lot of Firewhiskey, and you shouldn’t be out alone at this time of night. These aren’t exactly the friendliest of times.”

“And _you_ are going to protect me?” Izza’s sarcastic brow lifted further. Mary had a big voice, but she was short, and she was slight. Izza had at least a head on her.

“Yep. Be afraid.”

“Oh, I am. For my life.”

Izza tossed her hair, brushing her fringe out of her eyes as she opened the door to the Three Broomsticks. Mary nearly slipped on the icy step in her hurry to follow. Izza headed straight for the bar. Mary wondered if Izza ever noticed the way eyes followed her wherever she went - particularly the admiring eyes of men. She never seemed like she did - maybe she was used to it.

“Two Firewhiskeys, please,” Izza said, tapping her knuckles on the bar. “And a Butterbeer for her,” she added, as an afterthought, waving a careless hand in Mary’s direction. Rosmerta slid the three drinks across the bar to Izza, who paid and handed Mary the Butterbeer, before draining the two glasses of Firewhiskey in quick succession. 

“Iz,” Mary began worriedly, but Izza just held up one finger in the universal ‘just wait’ sign.

“Hold it right there, Mary. I know what you’re going to say, but the fact remains that if you were drinking the way I am, we both know you’d already be falling over. So stop looking at me like I’m going to die. Also, if you’re going to stay here with me then I’m setting ground rules. I’m not talking anything emotional, okay? I’m not doing anything deep and meaningful. I’m going to drink until everything is beautiful and nothing hurts and you are welcome to join me.”

Mary gaped at her friend, shocked into silence by that little outburst.

“Well, isn’t this precious? Two little Gryffindors, breaking the rules. What brings you here?”

Mary looked up and Izza rolled her eyes, looking over her right shoulder at the man who was taking the chair next to her and her distaste deepened when she realised it was Regulus Black. His dark hair was rumpled from the bitter wind outside and there was something in the hint of a smile he wore that suggested he was in the sort of mood she was familiar with; the mood where the urge to toy with people was irresistible. She was hardly in the mood for pleasantries, however, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood to deal with Slytherins. Plus, Regulus looked far too much like his brother, and Sirius’ was not a face Izza wanted to see any time soon.

“I was trying to be alone,” Izza answered bitingly, hoping he’d get the hint. “Apparently that’s impossible in this country,” she muttered, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

He didn’t get the hint. “Can I buy you a drink?” Those grey eyes that were so like those of his brother lingered in a hungry sort of way over her crossed legs.

“What am I, invisible?” Mary asked loudly and sarcastically, looking at Regulus with distaste. Mary was the most flirtatious and outgoing of the four girls - she didn’t like being ignored.

“I’ll buy you one too.” Regulus grinned predatorily. “You’re not bad looking either.”

Mary’s nose screwed up automatically.

Izza looked down at her near-empty drink and, after a long moment, shrugged. “I suppose so, but only because I’m trying to drown my sorrows and don’t have a great deal of money on me.” Izza could be a nice person, when she wanted to, but she had no qualms about taking advantage of silly boys like Regulus.

His smile widened a little and he motioned to Madam Rosmerta. “Could I get another Firewhiskey for the lovely Miss Moldovan and one for her friend too?” Regulus winked at Mary. “And one for me, of course.”

Rosmerta eyed him in a decidedly suspicious way before going get the drinks. When she returned, she placed them on the bar, and leaned over close to Regulus. “You get one and one only, Black. I know for a fact that you’re not seventeen for another week. Don’t even try to charm anything more out of me.”

Izza raised a brow and Regulus just smiled all the wider. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Rosie.” He put a hand against his heart. “On my honour.”

Rosmerta picked up her cloth and turned away, scoffing the word ‘ _Honour_ _’_ under her breath.

“So, was there something that you wanted in particular, Black?” Izza said, downing her drink and swapping her empty glass for Regulus’ full one, which made Mary laugh. “Or should I get my wand out now so we can get the whole Slytherin-slash-Gryffindor standoff over with?”

Regulus chuckled good-naturedly. His obvious good mood made Izza want to punch him the throat. “Relax. I’m just here for a drink. Though,” he said, raising a brow at her, “clearly I need a new one.”

She pressed her lips together, her eyes sliding towards his hand. There was ring of skin around his middle finger that was several shades lighter than the rest of his skin - the place where his family ring usually was. She wondered briefly why Sirius hadn’t given it back to him - but she cut that thought off quickly. She had to keep her mind off Sirius before he drove her mad.

Regulus was mercifully silent for a few minutes, and Izza’s thoughts drifted back to where they had been, prior to his arrival and prior to Mary distracting her. She’d tried to figure out how she had gotten to this point; Lily and Sirius were her two best friends, they should have had more respect for her than to go through her personal correspondence. Lily had always been so accepting of Izza’s instinct for privacy before, and she thought Sirius had gotten the message after last time.

An unfamiliar sort of regret filled Izza at that point. She and Sirius had failed spectacularly; they had crashed and burned, and although she had never had any delusions about a spectacular romance, a love story for the ages, she had hoped that he was worth the risk. She had always tried not imagine the inevitable end; it had always been crystal clear to her in other relationships, but it surprised her how much it hurt with Sirius. He had meant so much to her, that his mistake felt that much bigger. Two of the people she loved most in the world had done the all-but-unforgivable. Why did it feel like her whole life was going down in flames?

“Hey, are you all right?” Regulus asked suddenly.

Izza didn’t have to look at Mary to know that she was shooting the Slytherin a warning glance. She tipped her head back, swallowing and fighting the unexpected surge of tears. “Oh yeah, I’m fucking brilliant,” she snapped. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?

“You did mention the attempted murder of sorrows - can I ask what sorrows those might be?”

“Oh, you just have a death wish, don’t you?” Mary murmured, laughing into her glass.

Izza tensed up at the word ‘murder’ and, not for the first time, she looked at Regulus and wondered exactly what his part in all this was - why had his ring been in Garrett’s hand? “You can ask,” she said, raising a brow at him, “but I doubt it’ll get you very far.”

Regulus licked his bottom lip, looking at her intently with stormy grey eyes. He had the longest, darkest lashes too; much like his brother, whose eyes were like something a poet would write about. “I can probably guess anyway. The whole school is talking about how you haven’t spoken to Lily Evans or my brother for days.” He ran a hand through his hair and swivelled around a little on his stool, his knees moving back and forth. “Let me guess,” he said, putting his hands up to indicate that she shouldn’t speak. “You’re in love with my brother, but so is Evans. Everyone knows you and Sirius have had a little something going on since you got back from holidays, but now Evans has made her move and you caught them in the act.”

Izza looked at Mary, who was staring at Black with an open mouth. Izza downed her drink and faced Regulus, looking him dead in the eye. “Not even close,” she said darkly.

Regulus seemed distracted for a moment - Izza certainly had the art of intense eye contact down pat - before shrugging his shoulders. “It was worth a shot.” He eyed her for a moment. “You can tell me, if you like. I can keep a secret.”

She ignored him.

“Did you know that anatidaephobia is the fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you?”

Izza looked at him and, upon realising he was completely serious, burst out laughing. “Oh good lord, you’re insane.” She looked at Mary. “Mary, he’s insane.”

“It’s a real phobia. And it made you laugh, didn’t it?” Regulus reached out and pushed Izza’s hair away from her face. “I think you’re addicted to that stuff,” he said, indicating her glass of Firewhiskey.

Izza sighed. “We’re all addicted to something, Black. Something to take the pain away.”

“Cheers to that, then,” Regulus said, clinking his glass against hers. 

Izza drank, then uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She smirked as the younger Black’s eyes were drawn the lace tops of her stay-ups, which were just peeking out from beneath her skirt. Boys were so silly… so easy to manipulate. She hadn’t realised she was putting them on that morning when she was dressing, but she was glad she had. They always made her feel better, sexier, more confident.

Izza could feel the copious amounts of Firewhiskey she’d knocked back working its sweet magic. Her head felt light and she felt… mischievous, like her old self. Hopefully Mary would keep her from doing anything too stupid.

“I’m going to the loo,” Mary said, standing up. “Be right back.” 

“Why do you pretend?” Izza asked as soon as Mary was out of earshot, and when Regulus looked at her curiously, she continued. “Which is the real you - the Slytherin I see at school, or the kid who knows what anatidaephobia is - that it even exists?”

Regulus looked away. “I don’t even know.”

Izza made a noise in her throat. “Yeah right. You just don’t want to admit that the real you is not who everyone thinks it is.” She stood up, picking up her glass and sauntering towards the pool tables. “Come on.”

She set up the balls and chalked a cue. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Regulus approaching and she smirked again. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she was toying with him; probably as a distraction from her own thoughts.

After breaking the triangle, she stood up and grabbed the spare cue, before tossing it to Regulus. “You’re the smalls.” Leaning over the table, Izza bit her bottom lip in concentration and sunk three balls in quick succession.

“You’re good at this,” Regulus observed.

Izza nodded, watching as his shot missed the ball he was aiming for completely. “My brother and I used to play for hours on end. I could play blindfolded.”

“Or drunk?” Regulus said, lifting a brow as she drained her glass.

“Or drunk,” she agreed. As she leaned over the pool table again, Regulus eyes took the predicted route across her body. It was just all too easy. She had been running the table on boys, especially boys like Regulus who liked to pretend they were more confident and tougher than they actually were, for a long time. The talent for manipulation ran in her blood.

“So,” she said conversationally. “Don’t you Slytherins run in packs? Where is Rosier? The two of you are usually attached at the hip. Is that why you’re here? Have Mary and I interrupted your secret date night?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Regulus said, deadpan. “I’m banging my best friend. I guess we have something in common.”

The corners of Izza’s mouth curled into a smirk. This conversation reminded her so much of Sirius, it was eerie. The teasing, the banter, everything. If Izza closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was the older Black that she was talking to; the cadence of their voices were the same. She could pretend Sirius hadn’t broken that small and hopeful little thing inside her that thought maybe she could finally trust someone. 

“Lily Evans is my best friend, and I’m certainly not ‘ _banging’_ her.”

“Please,” Regulus scoffed. “As hot as that would be, I’m talking about my brother.”

Izza straightened up, gripping her cue tighter and wondering where Mary was with her patented warning glare when you needed her. “Your brother is not my best friend,” she lied.

Regulus raised a brow, as he lined up his next shot. “So the rumours are true. There’s trouble in Gryffindor paradise.”

Deciding that Black had a little too much power in this situation and was looking a little too comfortable, Izza sauntered up behind him. He was still bent over, lining up his shot, and she took advantage of this, leaning over him until her lips were close to his ear. “For your information, I never did anything with Sirius.” Izza let a suggestive hand rest on the belt of Regulus’ pant and laughed internally as he shivered involuntarily. Poor little Slytherin. So easy to toy with. If she was being honest (which she wasn’t), she was kind of drunk, and he looked a lot like Sirius.

“I wonder what’s keeping Mary?” she said, straightening up, as if the previous few minutes hadn’t happened. Izza turned back to Regulus. “You going to take that shot anytime this century?”

Regulus licked his lips distractedly, feeling the colour slowly come back to his face. Whether she realised it or not (Regulus thought she probably did), she had lethal bedroom eyes. He missed his shot completely and he berated himself internally, telling himself that he had to concentrate. He had a purpose and a mission. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was nearly time.

The pool tables were set into an alcove of sorts, partially separating them from the rest of the pub, and in this alcove, there was a door that Regulus knew opened onto a passageway, which, in turn, led to a storeroom out the very back of the pub.

The truth was, Moldovan made him nervous as fuck. Because she wasn’t soft or delicate or helpless like all the other girls Regulus knew. She was dangerous and she was foreign, and not just in the sense that she was from a different country. There was always something unpredictable about her.

Regulus squared his shoulders and walked around the table. Izza didn’t seem to notice until Regulus was right next to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and pushing her towards the storeroom door.

To her credit, she didn’t freak out or anything. She just raised a brow and said, “What do you think you are doing?”

Regulus pushed her against the door, reaching behind her to grab the door handle. “I’m sorry,” he said, as he kissed her, opening the door and pushing her through.

* * *

 

Pomegranates. Sweet and fresh and unique, and so very _Izza._ Soft hair was tickling his bare chest and soft lips were moving against his. Sirius inhaled through his nose, savouring that scent.

Except it wasn’t Izza. The hair wasn’t long enough, wasn’t dark enough. The hands that were running down his chest were too gentle - Izza knew what he liked instinctively, because they were so alike, and she wasn’t afraid to be a little rough with him. The lips that were kissing him were thinner, not like Izza’s pillowy, full lips that looked like heaven and deepest, darkest sin all at the same time. The body, the skin, under his hands as his fingers searched and touched was different. And the scent, as close as it was, was not entirely right. There was something different about it, a foundation under the pomegranates that wasn’t correct. 

He was so drunk that his head was spinning, despite the fact that he was lying on his back. There was a voice in his brain that sounded eerily like Remus, saying, “Stop what you are doing right now, you ridiculous idiot, before you do something you’ll _really_ regret,” but, to be honest, most of his brain was welcoming the numbing effect of all that Firewhiskey, and the scent of pomegranate perfume.

She had run out of her own perfume, she told him when he asked earlier, his eyes involuntarily widening in shock at the first scent of Izza, knowing she was furious at him and was nowhere to be found in the Gryffindor Tower. Upon finding her own perfume bottle empty, she had grabbed the nearest one she could find - Izza’s favourite, which had been sitting on her bedside table. That was why she smelt like Izza.

To be honest, Sirius didn’t really care about the how, or why. All he cared about was feeling something good, and thinking about something that wasn’t Isidora Moldovan. He was still a teenage boy - certain parts of him were reacting very well to Marlene’s ministrations.

Marlene. He tried to avoid thinking her name, because something inside him knew he was being _really_ stupid by doing this with her, Izza’s friend.

But, to be honest, Sirius was really drunk, and she smelt like Izza.

* * *

 

Marlene supposed you couldn’t be friends with someone for so long without picking up aspects of their personality, and truly, some of things Sirius said sometimes, reminded her so much of Remus that she could almost imagine it was him saying it. To be honest, she was drunk and sometimes, when Sirius spoke, he sounded like Remus.

And if she was still being honest - and Marlene was the kind of girl who practically spewed the truth when she was drunk - her feelings for Remus had slowly changed recently. It was mostly because he seemed to be withdrawing more and more; his absences and unwillingness to talk had made her realise that she missed him like crazy when he wasn’t around. It made her realise she had a huge crush on someone she considered to be one of her best friends.

There was something Remus was hiding, Marlene knew. She wasn’t stupid. She’d tried to get him talking that same morning, but he’d blown her off, and, in light of her recent epiphany concerning her feelings for him, his attitude was really quite crushing.

Maybe he was just stressed about NEWT’s. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he liked someone else. Maybe he still liked Izza. Marlene tipped her head back, closing her eyes as Sirius kissed her neck. Izza was beautiful, so god damn beautiful. Everyone else was second, compared to her. It would make sense for Remus to prefer her - everyone did.

But Sirius… when his attention was solely focused on someone, he had this ability to make them feel like they were everything. Marlene felt attractive and wanted, despite the tiny seed of guilt, the ugliness of the betrayal she was committing.

* * *

 

To be honest, Lily was really drunk, and James Potter was just _there._  

“Here,” James said, laughing as the glass he was passing Lily nearly slipped right through her fingers. “Drink up, drink up, you’re not even half as trashed as me.”

Lily did as she was told; fighting both giggles and hiccups. “You wanna bet?” she said, giving the glass back to James and putting her arms up in the air. “Everything is spinning.” They were in the boys’ dormitory, just her and James; Remus was hiding in the library, sick of everyone telling him he looked sick, Izza had left hours ago and Mary had followed, promising to keep her safe, and Pete, Sirius and Marlene were downstairs, probably still drinking and playing cards, as the group had been earlier.

“So,” James said very seriously, looking at her over the rim of his own glass in a way that gave Lily a sudden mental image of him with a moustache and a monocle. “To continue our conversation, what’s up with you and whathisname?”

“Justin,” Lily said, suppressing a hiccup. “What about him?”

James rolled his eyes. “Are you dating or not?”

Lily was laying on Sirius’ bed; she tried to sit up twice before actually managing it. Reaching for her drink, she shrugged. “Nope.”

“Well, why not?”

“I don’t know. He said he was going to ask me out, but he hasn’t yet. He probably got cold feet after Diagon Alley. You nosy bitch,” she laughed, trying to punch James in the shoulder, but missing completely.

James found her missed punch incredibly amusing and it took him several minutes to recover from his laughing fit. “Alcohol affects spatial awareness and depth perspex- excuse me, _perception,”_ he told her, matter-of-factly.

“Really? I had no idea!”

James lay himself down, with his head on Lily’s shins, scowling up at her. “Now, now, there’s no need to be sarcastic.”

“I don’t even know if I care, to be honest,” Lily said, looking at James’ dishevelled hair. “After the holidays, and all that’s happened, I just feel like I have more important things to worry about.”

James rolled over, resting his chin on her leg. Lily smiled - he got even more restless and fidgety than normal when he was drunk.

“So, do you have feelings for him?” he asked so innocently that Lily could almost believe that it was just a casual question.

“I don’t know,” Lily said honestly. “Probably not, but who knows?”

Suddenly, James grinned brilliantly. “Get up,” he said, jumping to his feet and nearly slipping over in the process.

“What?”

“Just do it!”

Lily stood up, frowning at James. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” James said, coming towards her. “It’ll help you figure it out.” Lily backed away.

“So tell me, do you get goosebumps when he touches you?” James murmured almost conversationally, talking half a step forward. Lily took half a step back, feeling the wall behind her. Where the hell was she supposed to go now? James’ lips were mere inches from hers and his fingers ran slowly up her bare arm.

Goosebumps erupted on her skin. She blamed the fact that she wasn’t wearing a jumper, and the window was open. Definitely the night air causing the reaction.

James smirked. “Does he make you catch your breath?” He effectively trapped her, laying one forearm against the wall and leaning forward so that, if she happened to move much, their hip bones would press together. Then he leaned in and pressed a ghost of a kiss to the underside of her jaw.

She couldn’t breathe.

James was serious now. “Does he make you feel like this?”

Then the gap was gone and Lily wasn’t wondering if he was just teasing her anymore. She wasn’t wondering anything, because she couldn’t _think_. Every part of her was shutting off, except the part of her that knew how to kiss. And that part was doing brilliantly, thank you very much. Reflexively, she pressed closer to him, one hand reaching up to tangle in that infuriating hair, the other grabbing, trying to find purchase on the muscles of James’ back. She felt one of James’ hands reach down to her knee and pull it upwards, hooking her leg low around his hip. The other hand gripped the back of her other thigh, lifting her up, so she was pinned in place by his weight.

Lily lifted her other hand to grip James’ hair. The need for air was becoming a little too lung-burning to deny, so she used her leverage to pull James’ head back.

“Jesus,” she gasped.

“Christ,” James panted, nearly simultaneously.

“This is… entirely inappropriate,” Lily mumbled. She barely even liked James, so why had that kiss felt so good? She looked up at him; his pupils were blown, his lips wet and red. He looked gorgeous - Lily mentally slapped herself. She didn’t think that, she didn’t think Potter was handsome at all.

As if he was reading her drunken, nonsensical mind, James said, “It’s called chemistry, Lily.”

* * *

 

When Mary regained consciousness, it was to the constant pounding of her own blood in her ears and the sound of voices. 

“You already gave it to them?” The first voice was low and masculine and very familiar.

“Yes. As for the others, you can make her put it in their drinks, or in their food if you must. It’s tasteless and clear.” The second voice was female.

Mary blinked, trying to get her vision to come back into focus. She was in a small room, which smelled musty, like a storeroom, or an attic. She could make out two fuzzy shapes by the door - one lean and masculine, the other more delicate and feminine.

The male said something that Mary didn’t quite catch over the pounding in her head, but it sounded like ‘what next?’

“Let Isidora go, if you’re sure she remembers nothing. Then go back to the school. The first chance you get, I want you to start administering the potion to everyone on the list. Like I said, it’s tasteless, so it should be easy.”

“What about MacDonald?”

“Leave her. I still have something to take care of.”

There was a pause, before the woman spoke again. “Go, now.”

Mary heard the door opening and closing and then footsteps coming towards her. A slender figure with bright blonde hair moved into her fuzzy field of vision, and her heart seemed to leap into her throat, pounding uncomfortably fast. She tried to sit up properly, but she was hit with wave of dizziness and she felt close to throwing up.

“Shh,” the woman said softly, pushing Mary’s hair away from her face. She brandished her wand and, through the haze, Mary saw her smile dangerously.

“ _Imperio._ _”_

* * *

 

The door slammed open and both Lily and James leapt up from the bed, where they had been sitting side-by-side in a sort of trance, guiltily. Then, Lily saw who it was that had burst through the door, and the state they were in. Izza’s shirt was ripped, bloodied and dirty. Rivulets of blood tracked down the left side of her face, originating from somewhere above her hairline and her eyes were wide and wild, the luminous blue of a gas flame. There was a sort of strange beauty in the two vivid colours - blue eyes and vibrant blood. 

“Jesus, Izza, what happened?” James asked, leaping up and putting his hands on her shoulders.

“They’ve got Mary!”

Lily felt as if someone had just pressed a cold hand to the back of her neck. James looked at her briefly, before locking back on to Izza’s mad blue eyes.

“What do you mean they’ve got Mary?” James asked, grabbing Izza’s face to make her look at him.

“They’ve got her,” Izza repeated, in a whisper. “They’ve got Mary.”

“Who does?” Lily asked, her voice verging on the hysterical.

“I was in the village, at the Three Broomsticks, with Mary… then something happened… and now she’s gone and I don’t know what happened - why am I bleeding?” Izza’s eyes darted around, not focusing on anything, staring through things as if they didn’t exist.

Lily looked at James, who let go of Izza. He pulled Lily aside. “I don’t know what’s going on, Lil, but -” he broke off, running a shaking hand through his hair, “- but I’m afraid. I think someone has erased her memory.”

“Let’s go find the other boys,” Lily said, trying to stay calm. “We need to find Mary first.”

James nodded and they led Izza out of the boys’ dorm and up the stairs to the girls’ dorm - or Lily did, at least, James was forced to wait at the bottom of the stairs.

“Come on, Iz. We’ll get Marlene, and then we’ll find Mary, okay?” she said, trying to make her tone soothing.

Lily flung the door to the dormitory open, and, upon seeing what was inside, pushed Izza back quickly, before the other girl could see anything and slammed the door shut. “Are you fucking insane?” Lily demanded, turning back to face Marlene and Sirius. “You,” she said, pointing her wand at Sirius, “You bastard. And you,” she looked at Marlene, “Izza is going to kill you, and I’m not going to stop her. This is pretty low.”

Lily picked up Sirius’ jumper and threw it at his stupid, beautiful face. She didn’t need this. _Izza_ didn’t need this. They had more important things to worry about, other than people making stupid, drunken mistakes.

“Get dressed, both of you,” she snapped. “Mary is missing.”


	19. Chapter 18: Night of the Hunter

_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN _ _ : NIGHT OF THE HUNTER _

To everyone’s enormous relief, they found Mary on the path to Hogsmeade, though like Izza, she had no memory of what had happened earlier that night. Lily was ready to go straight to Professor Dumbledore, but the boys disagreed, and more surprisingly, both Izza and Mary were vehemently against talking to any professors. Lily, therefore, could do nothing, despite her better instincts. She couldn’t to force them to do anything, and Izza promised she’d deny everything if Lily tried.

Lily tried to keep her thoughts away from what had happened, but the more she tried to distract herself, the more her thoughts came to rest on James and what had passed between them. She couldn’t deny she had felt _something_ , but as the days went by and she thought about it more, she got angrier. She had been drunk at the time, and yes, so had James, but he had made all the moves.

She avoided him like the plague. She had enough to deal with already, without her messed up, confused thoughts and feelings about Potter. She knew that he knew she was avoiding him; she could see the frustration written all over his face at meal times, when it was difficult to get very far away from him, but there were too many people around for him to say anything to her.

Lily didn’t really want to hurt him. She just didn’t know how to deal with the mess in her head.

The tension among the six of them - Lily, James, Remus, Sirius, Marlene and Peter - was palpable. Izza and Mary were the only ones unaware of what had gone down between Sirius and Marlene. Every time Lily came across the boys together, they seemed to be disagreeing about something, and it wasn’t always about what Sirius had done. They picked at Remus too, who still looked sick and pale, though that conversation was always swiftly cut off whenever the girls were around.

Sirius and Marlene dutifully avoided each other, which made Lily savagely happy. She wasn’t speaking to Marlene, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything to say without exploding at her, and given Izza was still angry at Lily herself, it didn’t seem right to give Marlene a telling off. The whole situation was wearing her down, making her feel exhausted all the time. She barely heard what her Professors said in class, barely heard the conversations that went on around her, barely saw the faces that went by.

Unaware of how much stranger things would get for her over the next few days, Lily went bed that night feeling completely drained. She closed her eyes, which felt heavy and itchy from the extreme tiredness and she saw Izza in a beautiful backless, floor sweeping plum gown, laughing and dancing with a man who was Sirius one moment, and a man Lily had never seen before the next. She saw messy black hair, hazel eyes, and an elegant, long-fingered hand catching and releasing a Snitch. She saw friends and family, newspapers filled with bad news, boarded up shops, school books, figures in masks and hoods and her friends bleeding, friends dying, friends -

Lily opened her eyes, gasping for air, her fingers scrabbling to grip at her sheets. She was looking for a lifeline, anything that would anchor her to waking world.

* * *

 

Friday came much too quickly for Sirius’ liking, but then again, not quickly enough. There was to be a full moon that night, and Remus had looked so sick and pale for so long recently, that Sirius just wanted it to be over and done with, so he could stop worrying about Remus for a couple of weeks and turn his attentions to the ever growing pile of other concerns that demanded his focus. 

Because as much as he would like it to, the situation with Izza was not sorting itself out. She still had no recollection of anything that had happened to her or Mary the other night, but that didn’t change the fact that she remembered - in vivid detail - Sirius and Lily’s betrayal. She avoided him, coldly rebuffing his attempts to talk to her because she was busy, or she was in a hurry and couldn’t stop right now, but thanks anyway.

Even still, Sirius sometimes found her looking at him, worrying her bottom lip absently. In those moments, she always looked like she had something to say to him but the words were caught in her throat. Sirius liked to think he knew her well enough to recognise the war going on behind her eyes - there was something she wanted to say to him, that much was obvious, but she was struggling with her anger, with her own instinct to retreat into her shell and never let anyone close enough to make her feel anything.

It came to a head that afternoon of that dreaded Friday. Izza rushed out straight after Transfiguration, the way she rushed out of every class so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone - especially Sirius or Lily. Which was why the last thing Sirius expected to find was Izza stopped dead in the middle of a corridor on the fourth floor, her eyes vacant, biting her bottom lip in that same anxious manner.

“Izza, I need to talk to you,” he began, startling her out of her reverie. This was fate. Something had made her stop. Some divine intervention maybe.

“I don’t want to talk,” she said exasperatedly, her long ponytail swinging back and forth as she shook her head.

“I want to talk about something that happened,” Sirius insisted. “Something else that you don’t know about yet.” Sirius had it in his head that if Izza knew the full and unabridged truth, if there were no secrets - on his part - between them anymore, then maybe they could move forward.

“Sirius, the past flatters no one. Leave it be.” She turned to walk away, but Sirius caught her elbow, and for the longest moment, they just looked at each other.

Izza swallowed, trying to decide what to do. Should she just tell him? There was too much on her chest; she couldn’t breathe anymore and their friendship was already in tatters, being honest at this point couldn’t really make anything worse…

“Something happened. Back home, in Romania.”

“I slept with Marlene.”

Izza stopped and stared at Sirius. She wasn’t sure she had heard him right - he had spoken at almost the exact moment she had. But the look on his face - that little frown, that little bit of anguish that he wasn’t quite able to hide made her wonder. “You… what?”

He looked down, and for some insane reason, all she could think about was how long and dark his lashes were against his pale skin. “Slept with Marlene,” he muttered.

Izza licked her lips absently. She should say something, she knew she should. Why would… why would he do that? Why would Marlene do that? The pain of hearing that was there - she could feel it, in her chest, buried under all her other shards of hurt. But then the self-loathing hit, harder than the ache of being betrayed. She had done the same thing, hadn’t she? In Romania, with Vlad? The guilt of that had been heavy in her chest for weeks now, though she had done her best to convince herself it didn’t exist. She was good at pretending. She deserved whatever Sirius did to her and more, she deserved all the bad things to happen to her.

Sirius looked up at her, his grey eyes dark with hurt. “Say something.”

“I can’t. I don’t have anything to say. I don’t know what to say.” She didn’t. How did they get so screwed up? How did they mess up their friendship, and the tiny spark of something more, so badly? It hurt, she was beginning to realise, because some tiny part of her had held onto this hope that maybe Sirius, that maybe her friends there at Hogwarts were different. Maybe they wouldn’t lie to her and betray her the way her family seemed to do at every turn. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt her.

But he did. It seemed that was all they were able to do, she and Sirius. Hurt each other.

Sirius’ brows pulled together, and Izza knew he was only just remembering what she had said.

“What happened in Romania?” he asked.

This wasn’t a good idea. It would hurt him to know the truth; it was worse than whatever he could imagine because he saw her as better than she was. He thought he knew most of what had happened at Christmas – he thought he had pieced things together from cryptic things she had said while drunk and cryptic letters from her brother. But he didn’t know it all and he didn’t know this. Sirius always did this, she thought, desperately sad. He pushed until it hurt, like picking stitches.

She didn’t embellish. She didn’t try to justify. “His name is Vladimir. He’s my oldest friend. I had just found out that my...” she broke off, drawing in a deep, shaky breath “- I had just found out something horrible about my family… and I did something I shouldn’t have.”

Sirius’ face was curiously blank. “You...with him?”

Izza didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Sirius lifted a hand and she flinched away instinctively, completely missing the pained look that crossed his face when she reacted that way. Didn’t she realise he would never hurt her like that, that he never wanted to hurt her at all? Everything had been one big mistake after another. He put his hand on her neck and drew her in, holding her tightly. The scent of her hair was right there in his nose, and her shape was so familiar to him, because she fit against him as though she was made to be there. She was stiff at first, which Sirius expected, because he had completely invaded her personal space without invitation, but then she relaxed unexpectedly, her fingertips digging into his shoulder blades as though she couldn’t hold him tight enough.

It took Sirius a little while to realise that Izza was trying to say something, her lips moving against the fabric of his jumper. He loosened his grip, but regretted it immediately when he saw the raw, distressed look on her face.

“We’re not - I can’t - this isn’t us…whatever, okay? I need time, I need space… god, I need space.” Izza moved out of Sirius’ grip, her fingers moving to her hair, tugging absently. “Everything here is choking me, I can’t breathe.” Izza felt like she was suffocating under the weight of being unable to see anything redeeming in herself. All she could see was a list of the lies they had both told, and the weight of everything that had happened was choking her. 

“Hey,” Sirius said, taking her hands and gently making her let go of her hair. “I get it.” He really did. He knew her. As much as anyone knew her, he knew. He needed time too. He had done bad things and so had she. They needed to stop and take stock, to remember how to fill their lungs again, and eventually forgive, if they could.

* * *

 

Lily sucked in the cool night air, feeling like she could breathe properly for the first time in days. Her boots sunk slightly into the snow, and the hem of her cloak was getting wet, but she didn’t care. Her head was miraculously clear, in a way it hadn’t been since Christmas.

She headed instinctively for the forest. She wasn’t even paying attention to where she was walking or where her feet were taking her. It was dark and it was late, but that didn’t daunt her. The bright full moon bathed everything in a bone-coloured light and the quiet was doing wonders to calm her frayed nerves.

It would be so nice to keep walking, she thought as she entered the fringe of the forest. To just keep walking away from everything. From the war and from the cracks that were appearing in the friendships she thought would last forever. To run away, to not have to listen to the incessant noise in her head.

Lily was so lost in her own musings that she didn’t even realise how deep in the forest she was until there was barely any moonlight filtering through the dense canopy. She stopped and looked around, her heart rate increasing slightly as she took in the twisted tree roots and the forest stretching endlessly in every direction. She turned on the spot, holding up her lit wand. She would just retrace her steps and get out of the forest. Her stroll had been pleasant, but dying at the claws of some forest creature was no way to feel alive.

* * *

 

Sirius was transformed, and relishing the freedom. He was no longer confined to his own body. He had four legs - he could run faster, jump higher and being a dog meant he didn’t have to think like a human if he didn’t want to. He could just let go.

He still had a job to do, of course. Someone had to protect Remus, to keep him out of trouble. The werewolf was sniffing around the roots of a tree. Nearby, Peter was perched on a root, only discernible in the gloom by his tail, which was swinging back and forth contentedly. James had not joined them yet - it had been his turn for the late corridor patrol that night. He would catch up with them when he was finished. In the meantime, Sirius could easily handle Remus on his own.

Sirius’ thoughts were turning though, as they inevitably did whenever he had time to think, to Izza, when, quite suddenly the direction of the cool breeze changed, bringing with it a scent that did not belong amongst the earthen forest smells. Sirius sat up quickly, his ears twitching as his acute hearing sought out any unusual sounds. His even more sensitive nose was filled with the foreign scent and an immense dread filled him.

There was a human in the forest, and whoever it was, they were not far from Sirius, Peter and a werewolf who was incapable of controlling himself.

Sirius felt his hackles rise and he barked at Remus. He would try and lure him away from the scent and if that didn’t work… well, Sirius would latch onto Remus’ neck and drag him away. He had had to do so before.

Remus lifted his head, turning luminous eyes on Sirius, as if he couldn’t understand why the black dog was suddenly so edgy, so eager to move on. Sirius let out a snarl, showing all his teeth. He was the alpha male.

But then it was too late. The breeze blew lazily through the trees, carrying with it the scent, even fresher and stronger than the first time. Whoever it was, they were closer. And this time, Remus had noticed.

His entire being seemed to perk up as the scent invaded his nostrils. He looked to Sirius briefly, seeming - if it were possible - excited, not able to understand that this was so incredibly bad. Then he threw his head back and loosed a chilling howl.

Sirius snarled again, trying not to panic. He needed James - if Remus went into a frenzy, Sirius alone would not be enough to hold him back. Peter couldn’t help, he was too small, and the chance of him getting hurt was too high. Sirius circled Remus. The fur on the back of his neck was standing up, his teeth were bared and a growl rumbled deep in his chest. He was dominant in every way, but Remus paid him no attention, he might very well have not existed. Remus was entirely focused on the hunt.

The dog and the werewolf were entirely still for a fraction of a second, before Remus took off, scrambling over tree roots, his keen nose following the human scent. Sirius paused only to bark once at Peter, short and sharp and the message was clear. _Find James for me._ Then he turned and raced after Remus.

* * *

 

Lily gasped as her foot slipped off the mossy tree root and she tumbled to the ground. There was a sharp pain her knee, but thankfully, when she looked, it was only a scrape. She clambered to her feet and pressed on. She was cold and she was no longer enjoying herself and she just wanted to get back to her warm bed. She had heard an eerie howl only minutes before, but had mostly managed to convince herself that it was just her own head playing tricks on her.

But then she heard _snap_ that was definitely not in her head. She looked to her right, where the noise had come from, but she saw nothing in the gloom. _Stop being so paranoid,_ she told herself. It almost worked until, out of the corner of her eye, she saw them.

Two eyes, glowing in the shadows.

She heard a soft, menacing snarl and her heart began to race dangerously fast. The creature stepped out from the shadows and into a shaft of moonlight and Lily heard a whimper that she realised must have come from her own throat upon understanding what it was.

_Werewolf._

They had studied them in Defence Against the Dark Arts and there was no mistaking it. Its lips were pulled back from its teeth, a rumble building in its chest. Lily backed up, eventually pressing up against a tree root. There was nowhere left to go. There was an unmistakable hunger in the eyes of the wolf, but for a moment, Lily saw past that. With sense of sadness, she wondered whose son, whose brother, whose friend this was?

But then, of course, she realised she was in big trouble. The werewolf could easily outrun her. She had her wand, yes, but she wasn’t sure she could fight it off.

The wolf took a step forward, as if testing to see whether she would run like frightened rabbit. Lily heard a vicious snarl, but it wasn’t from the wolf. She looked to her right worriedly - surely there wasn’t two of them? - and her gaze fell on an enormous black dog. Its snarl was not directed to her, oddly enough, but to the wolf. Lily bit her lip, her heart still thumping. It was almost as if the dog was warning the werewolf to back off. 

The werewolf looked at the dog and took another experimental step forward. There was a rumbling coming from the dog, which turned into another snarl. Lily felt frozen to the spot, paralysed by fear and fascination.

Then, almost quicker than Lily could blink, the werewolf sprang and she heard herself scream. The wolf was foiled mid-leap though, as the dog attacked, catching it around the neck with sharp teeth that gleamed in the dim light filtering through the canopy. The sound of the fight pierced the still night air - the shrieks of the werewolf as it tried to dislodge the dog, and the dogs’ deep, warning growl.

Lily’s body kicked into action at that point, every fibre of being screaming at her to run. She turned and scrambled over the tree root, and when her feet hit the ground, she started to run. She could still hear the sounds of the animals fighting and she worried for the strange dog that had protected her.

Lily heard a strangled howl, and as she instinctively looked over her shoulder, her foot caught in a root and she toppled to the ground.

Groaning, Lily pushed herself up onto her elbows. Nothing seemed broken, or too badly injured. And then, she heard it. A rough panting and soft, padding footsteps. Lily rolled over and sat up quickly, trying to scramble backwards as the werewolf came into view. The wolfs’ teeth were bared and something dark and wet was glistening on its fur. 

Lily heard a choked, distressed noise come from her own throat and she threw her arms up in front of her face, screaming as she saw the wolf leap.

But, for the second time, the impact never came. Instead, Lily heard a loud thud, like two bodies colliding, and a whine. Trembling violently, she lowered her arms and the first thing she saw was the wolf in a heap on the floor, leaf litter sticking the blood on its fur. The next thing she saw was the strangest sight of all: a stag standing between her and the wolf, pawing the ground nervously.

Lily jumped as a dark shape leapt over a tree root and came to a sudden halt next to the stag. Lily blinked, somewhat incredulously. It was her dog, the one who had protected her. The two animals seemed to exchange a look, before the dog barked once, sharply. Lily understood immediately, scrambling to her feet. The dog barked once more and she began to run. 

When she emerged from the fringe of the forest, Lily threw herself on the ground, panting heavily. She was unable to get her head around what had just happened. How badly her midnight stroll had nearly ended. 

Then, as she lay on the cold ground, trying to will her heart to return to a normal rhythm, she heard running footsteps.

“Lily! Jesus, Lily, there you are! Are you okay? What happened?”

It was James Potter. He had thrown a jumper on over his pyjamas and his feet were bare. Lily briefly thought they must be freezing. She got to her feet and James grabbed her, pulling her right up against his chest.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I - I’m fine. I just went for a walk.” Lily frowned, a thought occurring to her. “How did you find me? How did you know I was out here?”

James blinked. “Izza said you went for a walk. Come on, let’s get you back inside before you catch your death.”

* * *

 

Lily curled in her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn’t get warm, despite having put extra blankets on her bed. She couldn’t get comfortable. She had felt claustrophobic after closing her curtains when she got to bed, so she had left them open and she could see Izza through the gap in the other girls’ hangings. Izza was fast asleep, but every few minutes she would move in her sleep, restless even when she was unconscious.

Lily rolled onto her back and sighed, not even attempting to fight her heavy eyelids. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to not have to think about anything for a while.

She was at the point where sleep was beginning to overcome her, when she sat bolt upright, a thought occurring to her out of the blue.

She never told Izza anything.


	20. Chapter 19: A Beautiful Lie

**_ CHAPTER NINETEEN: A BEAUTIFUL LIE _ **

Sirius dropped his head down, so his hair fell forward and hopefully hid the ugly bruise and scratches that marked the right side of his face. But, as he sat down in the empty seat next to Izza, he knew it was useless. She had already seen.

“What happened to your face?” Izza asked, quietly enough that the conversation was between only them.

“Had a fight with one of my bed posts. The bed post won,” Sirius answered shortly. He knew Izza would see straight through the blatant lie - even an idiot knew what claw marks looked like, for Christ sake, and Izza was no idiot.

Izza looked like she was going to say something, but then she simply blinked and grasped Sirius’ hand gently. He stared at their interlaced fingers, feeling a strange tightness in his chest. In that moment, he was reminded of what a good friend Izza could be. Even when she was mad at him, she still worried for him. She still cared.

“What are you staring at?”

“Nothing. I - the last thing you said to me - I didn’t expect this.” He gestured at their hands.

Izza just shrugged. Sirius thought she might have said something, but James appeared at that point, sitting down opposite them. He didn’t bother to greet them verbally, sparing them only a short nod, before setting about piling his plate with breakfast.

Remus and Peter soon followed. Remus looked as bad as Sirius; his face was all bruised up and he moved gingerly, as if his entire body was sore. Sirius wouldn’t be surprised if it was, considering what it had taken to keep Remus off Evans the night before.

“Thought you were in the hospital wing?” Sirius said, surreptitiously moving his and Izza’s intertwined hands beneath the table. She seemed to think he wanted to let go, but he gripped her hand tighter until she got the message and went back to her breakfast as if nothing had happened.

Remus shrugged, not meeting Sirius’ eye. “Madame Pomfrey said I could come have breakfast,” he said, haltingly. Things were still tense between the four boys; the previous night had been absolutely too close a call, and, of course, memories of the last time such a thing had happened were as fresh in their minds as the day it happened. That, and they worried about Remus - they didn’t want him feeling guilty.

It was silent after that, until Lily sat down. She looked at Sirius and Remus’ faces, frowning, but said nothing - which, for Evans, was nothing short of shocking. 

Her mind was racing though. James had been out in the forest last night, and it hadn’t been because Izza had told him Lily was out there. And where James was, the other three were never far behind… had they been in the forest too? What were they up to?

Lily considered Remus, who was deathly pale beneath the bruises and scrapes on his face. His cheeks were hollower than usual too; he just looked sick. Both he and Sirius looked as though they’d been in a fight… Lily stared at the scratches on Sirius’ cheek.

She’d been thinking about it all night, and the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed, but the more it made sense. Remus had always had mysterious, unexplained illnesses or absences, and when Lily had thought back last night, it was always once a month. James always talked about Remus’ ‘furry little problem,’ and the boys called him ‘Moony.’ Following this realisation, she had been lying on her bed, staring out the window at the full moon, when it hit her.

_The full moon._

And when that thought had occurred to her, it had all crashed into place. Remus was a _werewolf._ Remus was the wolf who had nearly killed her the previous night.

Which left her with one more mystery. If Remus was a werewolf, what were James, Sirius and Peter? Clearly they knew about Remus, and when Lily thought about it, they always had plans on full moon nights, or would ‘turn in early,’ which they never did normally. Yes, after last night, she had a suspicion... but it seemed insane in her mind.

Still, she couldn’t deny the evidence in front of her. The werewolf - Remus - had fought with that black dog, the dog that had tried to protect Lily, and Sirius looked like he’d been attacked by an animal. Then, of course, there was the fact that James had known Lily was in the forest, despite the fact it was impossible that he got that information from Izza. And finally, the stag that had come at the last moment and saved her literally from the wolf’s jaws. She thought about the knowing, human-like look the dog and the stag had exchanged. 

The idea was formed, but it was insane, right? James and Sirius, and probably Peter too, they couldn’t possibly be… Animagi, could they?

“James, I need to talk to you,” she said firmly. Everyone looked up at her. “Alone.”

James’ face remained decidedly blank. “Lead the way, then.”

* * *

 

Sirius watched James and Lily exit the Great Hall, worrying his bottom lip absently. He doubted Lily suspected anything… but even if she did, no one in their right mind would believe three seventh years were unregistered Animagus. And James wouldn’t give them up. Sirius had grown to like Lily a lot more since the year had begun, but he still didn’t trust her with their second biggest secret.

Underneath the table, Izza brushed her thumb across the back of his hand; as though she knew his thoughts were a million miles away and was trying to pull him back into reality. When he looked at her though, her head was down, the thumb and index finger of her free hand pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What’s wrong?”

“What? Oh, nothing. Just a bit of a headache.”

Sirius watched her for a while, squeezing her hand gently once, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. He was still kind of trying to figure out how they had gotten to this point, with so many unresolved issues between them. The two of them were made up of a jumble of moments, most of which Sirius wished he could go back and change sometimes, but in a way, that was their charm. They weren’t perfect, which was good. Sirius had too many issues for perfection, in his own opinion.

“You okay, Moony?” Sirius asked, looking up at his mate.

Remus met his eye this time and after a second, he graced Sirius with a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Mary arrived at that point, and sat down next to Remus. If she noticed his or Sirius’ appearances - how could she not - she ignored it, reaching for the pumpkin juice and kindly refilling all their glasses before digging into her own breakfast.

* * *

 

“Tell me the truth, James!” Lily demanded, the moment they emerged into the Great Hall. “Izza didn’t tell you anything last night. Izza didn’t _know_ anything. You were out in the forest. You all were. Why?”

James blinked, his face expressionless. “Evans, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You sure you didn’t hit your head last night?”

Lily had to breathe for a second, to stop herself hitting James in the face. “Don’t you - don’t be so condescending, you prick. I know, okay, I _know_! I figured it out.” Lily looked around the Great Hall, and deciding they were too exposed, grabbed James by the arm and shoved him into the nearest broom closet.

“Merlin, Lily, you don’t have to manhandle to me to get me alone in a broom closet -”

“Remus is a werewolf.”

James froze in place, looking as if he really had been slapped across the face. A dozen emotions worked across his face, followed by a dozen more. His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes, as if that action might help him to hold everything inside.

Lily’s heart picked up speed and she regretted dropping that on James like that, especially now that she didn’t know which way his reaction was going to go. It was as if all the air in that tight little broom cupboard had been sucked out the gap under the door, and Lily was in some sort of limbo, waiting for James.

“James,” Lily began, but he cut her off instantly.

“No, stop.” James turned, or at least, he tried to. In the tight space he could only manage to turn side on, without shoving Lily back against shelving. He pressed his fingers to his temples and Lily was surprised to see him shaking. “First of all, you know you can’t tell anyone.”

Lily let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, because there it was. The confirmation that she’d been right.

“This… this doesn’t change anything,” Lily said shakily, putting a tentative hand on James’ wrist. He dropped his hand from his temple and looked at her hand for a long minute. Then, unexpectedly, he laced his fingers with hers. She let him. “He’s still Remus,” she continued.

“Yeah,” James agreed, his face hard. “Yeah, he is.”

They were silent for a moment, and Lily was hyper aware of their joined hands. “How long… have you known?” she asked timidly.

James closed his eyes. “A few years. We figured it out, me and Sirius and Peter. Bit like you did,” James finished off with a wry smile.

Lily looked down at the ground, her heart racing again. “And you. You and Sirius and Peter. You’re Animagi.”

James just nodded once, looking simultaneously guilty and almost glad to have shared the secret with someone else.

* * *

 

As a week passed, Lily felt almost content. She had spoken to the four boys together, and Remus had been nervous at first, as if he expected Lily to hate him, but had seemed almost relieved to have her know when he realised she was still always going to be there and love him as a friend. Sirius hadn’t taken it quite as well at first, and Lily was fairly certain that private words had been spoken between James and Sirius. When James invoked his best friend privilege however, reminding Sirius that he’d been okay it with it and given his blessing when he’d wanted to tell Izza about being an Animagus, Sirius had seemed to relent, and appeared to be coming to terms with someone knowing about them though. It had even served to clear the air between the four boys and they were almost back to their usual, joking and playful selves.

In the same spirit, Lily had spoken to Marlene. It was clear the other girl felt horrible about what had happened and after a few awkward minutes trying to express herself, Lily had given up and pulled Marlene into a hug, letting her know everything was relatively okay.

So, on most fronts, the air between the eight seventh years was reasonably clear. Perhaps Lily and Sirius and Izza still had a ways to go, but Lily fully expected that it would take Izza a while to get over Sirius and Lily’s betrayal of her trust. Still, something was better than nothing.

That weekend was Quidditch, which had everyone excited, perhaps more so than usual, because there was something so _normal_ about Quidditch, something so routine and familiar and comforting. It was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, and everyone expected a thrilling match.

Around half an hour before eleven, Lily took her seat in the stands, with Izza on her right, Remus one seat further on than that, and with Peter, Mary and Marlene in the respective seats to her left. The teams were in the air, warming up; Sirius was swinging his bat with a vigour that suggested to Lily that the game was probably timely for him to work out some pent up energy.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw Izza sit up straighter. “Who is that?” she asked, pointing her index finger at the pitch, towards the tallest Ravenclaw on the green - a gorgeous blonde haired boy with broad shoulders and a winning smile, which he was directing at one of his team-mates.

To Lily’s left, Marlene laughed, leaning around Lily to stare at Izza in mild disbelief. “Honestly, Iz, you are so self-absorbed sometimes. That’s Nathaniel Jensen - he was a friend of Sean’s.”

“Surely not,” Izza said, watching Nathaniel’s progress through the air as he took off to warm up. “I would remember such a perfect specimen of man.”

“You’ve said it yourself in the past - people rarely register on your radar unless they steal the boy you want or royally piss you off.”

“Or are _that_ gorgeous,” Izza said, leaning her elbows on the railing and grinning.

As if he could feel their gaze on him, Nathaniel Jensen looked over in their direction. Izza raised a hand in a wave, and a smile formed on her lips as Nathaniel looked over his shoulder, clearly unsure as to whether she was waving at him. Satisfied she was, he grinned and waved back. Lily laughed and shook her head slightly - there was a familiar predatory gleam in Izza’s eyes that suggested that Nathaniel Jensen wasn’t going to know what hit him. Lily couldn’t help but look up at Sirius, circling above; his jaw was set as he smashed a warm-up Bludger with a kind of aggression that suggested he’d seen the exchange.

“This should be a good game,” Marlene said, shooting an amused glance at Izza. “You feeling okay, Mary?”

Lily looked down the line at Mary, who seemed a little pale and distracted.

“What?” Mary asked absently. “Oh, I’m fine.”

The game eventually began, and it was fierce battle from the word go. The teams were quite evenly matched and it was score for score. The Snitch seemed to be particularly elusive - neither Seeker had made any serious move. The Beaters were locked in a furious clash, exchanging heavy hits.

The match had been going for close to an hour and a half and the scores were dead even. The Chasers were started to get weary, that much was obvious, and the Beaters’ limbs looked almost as heavy as the Bludgers they were hitting. The Keepers were both breathing heavy, taking any opportunity between plays to suck in air, and all the while, the Seekers circled high overhead, like hunting eagles, waiting for a glimmer of the Snitch.

Then, quite suddenly, the Gryffindor Seeker was streaking towards the Ravenclaw goal posts, hand outstretched. His circle had taken the Ravenclaw Seeker in the opposite direction; he was too far away to compete for the Snitch and the Gryffindor pulled up seconds later, Snitch in hand.

Naturally, the Gryffindor stand was on their feet instantly. Lily was cheering as loudly as anyone, and what came next happened before she could even process it: in the corner of her vision, she saw Izza convulse, then double over, retching dryly.

“Izza, Jesus!” she heard Remus say, panicked, and she turned to look, only to see blood streaming from Izza’s nose; her skin had turned deathly pale and she emitted a couple of gurgling coughs, more blood spilling from her mouth and over her chin. Her eyelids half closed and she reached out blindly. Somewhat in shock, Lily grabbed her arm and saw Remus do the same.

“What happened?” she screamed to Remus, over the roar of the cheering crowd.

“I don’t know,” he shouted back, despairingly, “she was fine and then she wasn’t!”

Peter moved around Lily, who felt kind of frozen with horror and fear, and put Izza’s arm around his shoulder. She slumped between the two boys and the blood was so bright against her pale skin. There was so much, Lily thought desperately, why was there so much blood?

“Get out of the way, we’ve got to get her to the hospital wing,” Remus said, pushing past the girls. Lily, Marlene and Mary stood, stuck in place by shock. It had happened so quickly and Lily wasn’t even sure what had occurred. Marlene started after the boys and Mary remained where she was for a moment, staring blankly at the floor, before following slowly.

Lily took off after them, sprinting, and had almost reached the castle doors when Sirius and James caught up to her.

“Lily,” James said, slightly out of breath. “What’s going on, why didn’t you guys wait? We have to celebrate, we won!”

“I know, and I’m happy for you guys, but something’s wrong with Izza.” Lily didn’t even stop running. She heard their footsteps behind her and was glad they hadn’t made her stop to explain.

When they reached the hospital wing they found Remus, Peter, Mary and Marlene waiting outside. Remus had blood on his hands, and on his brow - by the looks of it, he’d wiped his hand across his forehead without thinking - and he was shaking.

“Madame Pomfrey said we have to wait outside,” Remus told them. Sirius, who had clearly been about to ask, shut his mouth.

“What happened?” James asked. “We saw you guys cheering, and then you were all gone.”

“We were cheering,” Peter said. “And then Izza’s nose started bleeding, and she was coughing up blood.”

“Bloody hell,” James breathed. Sirius bit his lip, worry shading the planes of his face.

Footsteps were hurrying along the corridor; the group turned and moments later, Professor McGonagall came around the corner. She brushed past them, sparing only a cursory glance, before pushing the doors open and entering. They quickly gathered, trying to get a glance through the gap in the closing doors. They caught a brief glance of Izza, being held in a sitting position by Madame Pomfrey. There was still blood dripping from her nose, and there was bucket sitting on her lap, which she was coughing more blood into it.

“Jesus,” Sirius said, as the door clicked shut. His voice half-broke over the word, and he lifted a shaking hand to his mouth.

They waited all afternoon, for some news. James paced, occasionally pressing his fingertips to his temples. Sirius and Lily sat side-by-side, their backs against the wall. Sirius had buried his face in his hands. Lily couldn’t stop staring at the blood on Remus’ clothes.

It felt like years before Madame Pomfrey finally opened the doors.

“Oh, for - you lot are still here?” She looked at them as they scrambled to their feet, pleading expressions on their faces. “I suppose you want to come in. It’ll have to be quick though. She needs to rest.”

Izza was propped up in bed, eyes closed and skin still pale. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, but Madame Pomfrey had cleaned her face off at least. Sirius reached her first, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out, smoothing her hair back off her forehead. She stirred as the bed shifted beneath his weight. Her eyes opened slowly; violet-blue, with dark, purplish circles beneath them.

“What happened?” she asked hoarsely.

Remus perched himself on the other side of the bed. “That’s the thing,” he said. “We don’t know.”

“Pomfrey said something about…” Izza said, her voice quiet and brittle. She closed her eyes and leaned back into her pillow.

“Have you been feeling ill?” Lily asked, chewing worriedly on the nail of her left index finger.

“Headaches,” Izza muttered. She rolled over, curling against Remus’ leg. Remus brushed her hair back gently and the group was silent for a while, until Sirius frowned and leaned forward, pulling the neckline of the nightgown Madame Pomfrey had put her in, down a little.

“Look at this,” he said, his fingertips brushing against blueish-purple bruises along the line of her vertebrae, which extended beneath her nightgown and presumably further down her back. He looked up at his friends, and Lily knew they were all thinking the same thing: _what now?_ How much more could they possibly deal with, before it became too much?

* * *

 

Three days later, Remus was the next to succumb. He developed uncontrollable shakes and passed out in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and though he wasn’t retching blood, the way Izza had, Madame Pomfrey found the same strange bruises running down the length of his spine and Lily knew that their conditions were related. Someone was trying to hurt them, and succeeding, and that was a terrifying thing to know.

Next was Sirius. It was as if he had a terrible flu, and though he assured the others that it was nothing, within days he was bedridden, too weak to get out of bed and with a raging fever and those same odd bruises. It seemed to spread; within days, the hospital wing looked like a war zone. The illness was most prevalent among the older students, but there were some younger students affected too and the hospital wing was filled to capacity.

During her free period, a few days after the breakout began, Lily headed to the hospital wing. The students she passed in the corridors kept their heads down and hurried to their next classes. Some had taken to covering their mouths and noses with scarfs or handkerchiefs, even though no one knew how the illness spread. It seemed indiscriminate, striking senselessly. Lily herself was frightened, though she tried to push the fear deep down inside herself. She was Head Girl, she had to be strong and set an example.

She entered the hospital wing quietly. Madame Pomfrey was tending a student in a nearby bed and looked up as Lily shut the doors. She looked drawn, and worried.

“Miss Evans, you shouldn’t be in here. We still don’t know how contagious this is.”

Lily looked around at the other beds. Some people were trembling, others were coughing, and others were still, with closed eyes, breathing shallowly and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, meeting Madame Pomfrey’s eye determinedly.

Sirius, Remus and Izza’s beds were side by side. It was necessary - the amount of ill students was nearly outstripping the room in the wing - there was only so much magic could do - and so beds were being reshuffled to make room for more beds. Remus was sitting up, reading a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Every now and then he would cough, and it was chesty and horrible sounding. Sirius was asleep, buried in layers and layers of blankets. Shivers wracked his body. Izza was dozing in the bed just beyond Sirius’.

“How are you feeling?” Lily asked, sitting on the side of Remus’ bed. She took his hand. It was cold and clammy, but she held on anyway.

“Like I got hit by the Hogwarts Express,” Remus said hoarsely.

Lily sniffed and squeezed his hand. Remus looked at her, and she was amazed at how, even when he was sick, his penetrating stare was still effective. “You alright?” he asked, eventually.

“Fine. Just a bit of a headache and a sniffle.”

“Lily -”

“I’m fine, Remus. I have to be.”

Their eye contact was only broken when, from two beds over, Izza let out a pained little moan. They watched for a second as her eyes flickered beneath her closed lids, and her brows pulled together, but then she seemed to relax and Lily opened her mouth to speak.

“Put it in their drinks.”

Both Remus and Lily’s heads snapped back in Izza’s direction, as her fingers curled into the sheets and she slept on, murmuring “Put it in their drinks. _Put it in their drinks.”_


	21. Chapter 20: Sick As My Secrets

**_ CHAPTER TWENTY: SICK AS MY SECRETS _ **

Lily’s evening was the most boring and yet the most stressful possible; it was her turn for patrol and though ninety-eight percent of the time it was mind-numbingly dull, it also gave her a lot of time to think, and naturally, having far too many worries for a teenage girl, she stressed herself out. Thoughts of her ill friends sat corrosively in her mind, gnawing at her, and Izza’s words turned over and over in her brain, as if on an endless loop; _‘Put it in their drinks. Put it in their drinks.’_

‘ _What? Put what?’_

What was happening within the walls of Hogwarts? Lily cast her eyes about the corridor she was in and shivered. This place was her safe haven, but now it seemed not even that was the case anymore. There were so many questions within the school, and not the kind she enjoyed. Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, all that she could handle easily. But questions like who murdered Garrett Jennings, and where was Esther Collins, and what was happening to the students were altogether too heavy and no answers had been forthcoming, so they weighed on Lily like a tonne of bricks. She felt utterly exhausted and drained; her weariness was bone-deep.

Her path took her to the Entrance Hall and as she approached, she could hear some commotion. It was past curfew, but the people crowded around were not students but rather professors, including Dumbledore, who was speaking to an unfamiliar woman with short blonde hair.

“The wing remains on lockdown, Madame. I’m afraid I must say to you what I have said to all the concerned parents I’ve had at my door; I cannot, in good faith, allow innocent and healthy people to enter that wing when we have no idea the cause or virility of this terrible pestilence. When we have established it is safe, you will be allowed to see your children.” Dumbledore tipped his head gravely and though he was incredibly polite, Lily could read the dismissal all over the situation.

The blonde woman apparently could too and said something sharp and inaudible to Lily in her current position, as she tried to remain inconspicuous. Professor Dumbledore said nothing and the woman’s expression was darker than thunder as she turned on her heel and stormed towards the doors.

Sensing the need to leave before the professors noticed her lurking; Lily turned and ascended the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could manage. 

* * *

 

Kes entered the sprawling foyer slowly. He felt ridiculous in his high heeled boots and long skirts, and his long red hair was making his neck feel itchy and uncomfortable. The whole feeling of being in a female form was alien to him, but the elf at the door had not even blinked at him, so at least he knew the Polyjuice was working. The real Hilda Norgren was soundly sleeping in a Muggle hotel room two towns over, watched carefully by Kes’ friend, Dimitri.

“Mistress is upstairs,” the elf said, gesturing to the grand staircase. Kes raised a contemptuous brow, as if to imply how dare the creature assume that Hilda knew where to go and would announce herself. How improper. The elf let out a small squeak and dashed to the stairs, beckoning Kes to follow.

The house elf led him upstairs and along a narrow, dimly lit corridor. Painted eyes followed their progress and in the confined space, Kes felt like the portraits were practically breathing down his neck. He tossed his hair haughtily the way he had observed Hilda Norgren to often do. The apothecary had an opinion of herself much higher than her station or her blood would suggest.

Knocking three times sharply, the elf brushed down its pale blue tea towel and stood a little straighter. Unconsciously, Kes did the same.

“Enter,” came a cool female voice in answer. The elf opened the door and ushered Kes in, clearing its throat as it did so.

“Miss Norgren, Madame.”

The lady at the writing desk looked up and then stood, her blonde hair brushing her shoulders as she did so.

“Hilda, my dear, come in,” Catrine said, her voice pleasantly cool, gesturing towards the seat in front of the desk. As Kes approached, Catrine stepped forward and kissed both of his cheeks. They both seated themselves again and Catrine rested her chin on the palm of one hand. A smile formed on her lips that, to the untrained eye, looked sweet, but to Kes looked nothing short of dangerous. His blood was cold and his palms were sweaty.

“Do you know what this is?” Catrine asked, placing a tiny silver vial of clear liquid on the desk.

“May I?” Kes asked, reaching for it.

“Of course.”

He unscrewed the bright silver cap and raised the vial to his nose. It was entirely clear and odourless. Tasteless too, he would guess. He’d stake his wand on the liquid being poison.

“I’m not familiar with it,” he said, replacing the cap and the vial on the desk.

Catrine clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “This,” she said, touching the top of the vial with her fingertip, “is a very curious little poison.”

“I suspected,” Kes said, leaning forward. “What are its properties?”

Catrine’s dangerous smile grew. “It reacts to how _honest_ the consumer is. On the most honest person in the world, it would have no effect. But for every secret that you keep, every lie that you tell, it makes you a little sicker. The more secrets you have, the more potent its effects are. Eventually, your secrets and lies will quite literally kill you. This particular poison, my dear friend, will, for all intents and purposes, make you as sick as your secrets.”

Kes’ heart was thumping and his stomach had dropped. Surreptitiously, he wiped his hands on his skirt. “And what - why have you summoned me here to tell me about this?”

Catrine stood and went to the bookshelf that spanned the length of the wall directly behind the desk. She slid her fingers along the spines of the books until they reached the tome she wanted. She pulled it out and returned to the desk, turning it to face Kes. Catrine tossed it down in front of him, already open to the desired page. A detailed schematic of a stunted, ugly little flower was appearing on the page. On the left, writing was flowing, detailing the properties of the bloom. On the right, below the flower, was the image of a woman interacting with people. For each person that appeared, the woman’s speech bubble showed a triangle, but her thought bubble showed a circle. The more people she lied to, the more beautiful the image of the flower became. However, as Kes watched, after a certain amount of lies, the petals began to blacken and curl, and the flower began to die.

“Did you ever think your secrets could kill you, Hilda?” Catrine asked softly, manic smile still in place.

Kes swallowed. “Not like that.”

Catrine laughed softly. “I need you to source this plant for me. I have a plan in motion, but the supply I bought with me from Amsterdam is exhausted.”

This was it, Kes thought. This had to be what was making his sweet sister and her schoolmates so sick. “I will try.”

A small furrow appeared between Catrine’s perfect brows. “Our Bulgarian friend will know what to do. Contact him. There is no ‘try’, Hilda, only succeed.”

“What are the symptoms?” Kes asked. “For my notes,” he added when Catrine’s frown deepened suspiciously.

“It’s different for everyone,” Catrine said, pacing behind the desk. “In some it may look like flu, with fevers and the like. With some it might look like physical injury that gets worse instead of better. That’s why it’s so difficult to pinpoint as the cause.”

Kes’ mind flashed to his poor sister, with blood streaming from her nose, choking on it, and the horrible bruises down her spine. He’d had a letter from Professor Dumbledore. “There are rumours,” he began slowly. Catrine’s head snapped up to look at him; blonde locks swinging, blue eyes cold. “That something is making mudbloods and blood traitors at Hogwarts very sick.” Kes had heard Hilda Norgren talk as though her blood was pure during his research of her, despite the fact that she herself was a half blood.

Catrine’s mad, dangerous smile returned, and it was a charming as it was insane. “Well, you are part of the plan now. You know what will happen if you breathe a word.”

Kes nodded quickly.

“There is a child in Hogwarts, under my control. A child who has no recollection of how they have been quietly pouring poison into the drinks of their schoolmates. A child who will be framed as a servant of the Dark Lord when the time is ideal, so that blame can never be associated back to me…or the people who have helped me.” Catrine looked Hilda up and down and her grin widened.

Kes knew his time was fast running out and that he would soon begin to transform back into himself, but that was the information he needed to hear. He would find the child under the control of Catrine’s Imperius curse and he would break it. But there was one final matter…

“Is there a cure?” he asked.

“Yes, but they’ll never figure it out. The cure requires the person burn a lock of their own hair in an envelope containing their secrets written in red ink, at midnight.” Catrine smoothed her hair. “Then they must rub some of the ashes into their temples.”

“How specific,” Kes noted dryly.

“A finicky cure for a finicky poison,” Catrine said with a shrug, seating herself back at the desk.

Kes stood. “I best get back to the shop, it doesn’t run itself unfortunately. I’ll be in touch.”

“See that you are.” As Catrine spoke, Kes noted a photo in a frame on the desk that he had been too distracted to notice earlier. It was of him and his sister, fairly recently; perhaps only a couple of years old, when Kes had been a seventh year and Izza a fifth. She was so pretty, his girl was, with her charming smile and her mesmerising eyes. Even then there had been slightly less coldness to Isidora’s demeanour and as usual, Kes felt like a failure for not having successfully protected his sister’s innocence. At seventeen she had seen too much, done too much, lived through too much for her young years.

Catrine’s eyes were fixed on Kes. “My children are beautiful, are they not?”

“Very,” Kes answered, staring at Izza as she waved to him.

“My son, I’m afraid is lost to me, poisoned by my husband’s family. But my daughter I think I can regain. And if I have her then her brother will follow. He always does. He’s weak like his father and loves her too much. Except unlike his father and me, he will not hate her when she turns away from him. Sibling bond is something I have never understood, but it may work in my favour. He loves her too much.”

Kes hoped Catrine couldn’t hear how angrily hard his heart was beating and it took conscious effort to keep his hands from curling into fists. He hated her. He despised this woman and was sickened that he was half of her.

Kes swallowed. “Well I wish you luck with your children. Good day.”

* * *

 

Lily wiped the sweat off her brow and turned the page of her _Prophet_ determinedly. She had felt feverish all day but refused to give in. She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to fight off this bloody illness.

“You’ll be right mate. You will. You’ll come good soon, you just wait,” she heard a deep male voice murmuring. Lily looked to her left, over at the bed where Nate Jensen was sitting with his housemate, Richard Boot, who was virtually delirious with fever. Nate looked up, meeting Lily’s eyes and raising his shoulders in a hopeless sort of gesture.

Lily heard a soft gurgly cough next to her and she looked down at Izza. A slow trickle of blood was sliding from her nose and down her cheek. Lily grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and wiped it away gently, trying not to wake Izza.

“She doesn’t look good,” Nate Jensen said, sliding a chair into the space in front of Lily and straddling it, resting his forearms against the back.

“I don’t think she is too good,” Lily replied sadly, putting the bloodied tissue back on the bedside table.

“I’ve never known what to make of her, hey,” Nate said, looking at Izza’s sleeping face. Lily laughed briefly.

“Join the club!” Nate cracked a smile. “She’s hard to read,” Lily added.

In the next bed, Sirius was sleeping fitfully. Beyond the window, Lily could see the snow swirling frenetically, and although the hospital wing was cool, there was a sheen on Sirius’ forehead and clamminess to the pallor of his handsome face. Lily leaned over Izza and pulled the blanket down, leaving him in just a sheet. She thought, with a mixture of fondness and sadness too, that for all the seventh years had been through and all their mistakes, they had become very close. Even Lily, who had once despised James and Sirius, found herself deeply caring about the troublemaking boys. Fear clenched in her stomach; she couldn’t lose any of her friends. She just couldn’t.

At that point, James came in and Nate took his leave, murmuring something about dinner. James flopped into Nate’s vacated chair with a heavy sigh. He looked pale.

“Filch asked me where my ‘troublemaking twin’ was today. Said it made him very suspicious to not see the two of us together.” There was sad downward twist to James’ mouth that absolutely broke Lily’s heart. It was true, people who didn’t know better would think the boys were brothers, and to see one without the other was like seeing a Cerberus missing a head. James ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “Lily we need to find out what Izza was muttering about. No one can crack this and I’m…I’m scared. I can’t…lose him.” James’ eyes were on Sirius. “He’s my brother.” Lily’s heart broke for him, for herself, for them all. 

“Have you seen Mary?” Lily asked, and James shook his head. Mary had been there that night, and although she said she remembered nothing, she had been acting…strange, since it had happened.

“She’s been avoiding us all,” James mused. “Hasn’t even been to visit these three.” James reached out and brushed Izza’s dark hair back very gently.

In the furthest bed from where Lily and James sat, Remus gave a chesty cough and propped himself up. Lily felt her mouth tighten automatically at the pallor of his skin.

“Lie down, Moony,” James said gently.

Remus ignored him. “You’re not going to like this idea Lily…but maybe you should go down to the Three Broomsticks…scout around…try and find out what happened to Izza and Mary.” Remus was out of breath by the end of this sentence, his breath crackling in his chest.

Lily exchanged a long look with James. His knee brushed hers as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. He scrubbed his hand across his face a couple of times and when he looked up at Lily, she noted the dark shadows beneath his eyes, and the downward turn of the corners of his mouth.

“What do you reckon?” James asked quietly.

“No one has any better ideas,” Lily mused. “The professors are at a loss, the Healers that St. Mungo’s sent over have no idea what’s going on.” Lily was quiet for a long minute before meeting James’ eye again. “Tonight. We go tonight.”

* * *

 

James pressed his lips together as Lily scoped the end of the corridor. He beckoned her impatiently - he’d checked the map a thousand times; there was no one around. They had to go now. They had to get out of the school, down to Hogsmeade and they had to find out what was happening to their friends. They might only get one shot at this and James…James didn’t think Izza, Sirius or Remus had much time to spare.

“ _Dissendium,_ _”_ James muttered, tapping the witches’ hump with his wand. The passage opened and Lily appeared at James’ shoulder.

“Can you feel that?” she asked, as James offered his hand to help her climb in.

“What?”

“That…chill in the air?” Lily shook out her long hair and James caught a mild floral scent. “Never mind. I’m going crazy. Must be everything that’s going on.”

The tunnel was dark and cold, so that by the time they emerged into Honeydukes cellar, they were both shivering. The cellar was mercifully warm and sweet smelling, the way Honeydukes always was and Lily found it so strangely comforting that her eyes stung. James took her hand and pressed a finger to his lips, and they snuck silently through the store, and out onto the empty high street of Hogsmeade. The air was unnaturally still, not a soul stirred.

James stopped in the shadow cast by the shopfront, out of the bone pale moonlight.

“What?” Lily hissed, stamping her feet and rubbing her hands together. It was freezing.

“I don’t know…something just feels so _wrong_ ,” James said, grimacing. He squinted off into the darkness on his right. 

Lily didn’t even have time to scream when the hand closed over her mouth and yanked her backwards.


End file.
